writing process

The Daily Thunderstorm

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Welcome to the daily thunderstorm. Such is August in New York’s Capitol Region. I don’t mind it. Actually, the booms and flashes and wet stuff are my favorite part of a summer day, apart from the part where day turns into night. Night, as it were, is not far off, or at least the part of the day where I have uninterrupted writing time. Which, technically, never happened, as I am not alone at home today, with Real Life Romance Hero in residence. Housemate will be home within the half hour, so, realistically, this is probably going to get posted tomorrow, rather than today, because that’s the way things go. It probably doesn’t help that, because I am still figuring out the Mac, which will probably include a Safari upgrade, I am relying on YouTube for my musical accompaniment, and, well, how can I possibly listen to Mykal Kilgore sing Drew Gasparini’s “I Loved You Too Much” without actually watching the video? I’m only human. Or Mykal Kilgore singing “Disaster,” also by Drew Gasparini. Okay, fine, any video that has both names in it is one I really should not be playing when I am meant to be writing.

There are different types of writing. Blogging, I can do with family mucking about. Usually. There are always exceptions. Some things, I can do in bits and snatches, propped on a pile of pillows at the end of an air mattress (non-leaky variety) with the Mac on my lap desk, and legs contorted in what is probably not a real yoga position (writer pose? is that a thing?) Other things require complete silence and solitude (though true fact, for me, that’s not a lot) and yet others need to be where I am alone among people. This is one of the reasons there is part of my brain devoted to figuring out what bus route will drop my at my favorite coffee house, because I miss that place, and the atmosphere, but writing is one of those things that can be done in an endless variety of places.

For now, I’ll go with the sound of the actual thunderstorm as my background music. We’re close enough to the road that I can hear one of my top three sounds of all time, cars driving on wet asphalt. (The others, in case anybody was wondering, are RLRH snoring, and Skye crunching her treat) Part of my brain is working on my Drama King assignment for the week, as Melva and I will have our weekly meeting in person, as part of my retreat. Blabbering here actually lets another part of my brain work on other things (aka fiction writing) on the back burner, and a lot of issues sort themselves out that way, so I won’t complain about that, either.

Preparations for said upcoming retreat are underway, which is, in itself, part of said retreat. Once I decide what’s coming with me, (and after I do laundry, because clothes covered in dry sweat are not conducive to either rest or creativity) that’s committing to what I’ll have on hand for the time that I’m away. As with the last retreat, there will be no internet. This is not as scary as it was the first time, especially, since I remind myself that I spent the majority of my life, at least half of it, in a time when the internet did not even exist, so it’s a pretty good shot that I will be able o survive. Not so sure about my Sims Free Play Sims, but not going to give that too much emotional energy.

This will be the first trip with the Mac, and I’m looking forward to that. Skye is still the main draw, of course, but picking out the right books, the right DVDs (I figure a couple of movies, and one season of a TV series should do me fine) – those are important. What I bring is what I’ve got, and I need to have a plan in mind. Four books seems about right (plus Kindle and charger, because one never knows) and morning and evening pages books. There are two pocket size inserts for Li’l Pink, headed my way. They should arrive by Friday, which is perfect, because we should be hitting the road Saturday morning, and having a whole weekend to set up a pocket sized planner, which includes but is not limited to copying vital information from Big to Li’l Pink, that’s about as good as it gets for planning. Which definitely means I need to make sure I bring the right planning supplies, or I will be kicking myself for the entire retreat.

Well, not the entire retreat. There will be Skye, and there will be Melva, and there will be a decent sized TV, with nobody to fight me for the remote. There will be books and my shiny new computer, and all my imaginary friends, and a fully stocked kitchen, and maybe, possibly, there will be thunderstorms. If not, There’s always downloaded ambient sound.

 

 

 

It Only Has To Be Written

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Old school workspace picture for today, because A) it’s hot and muggy, and B) I am too lazy to get up and retrieve my phone from the bedroom, also C) I have no idea if it will actually take a charge, and I would rather live in blissful ignorance on this matter, for a while longer. Technology, often, is not my friend, which is a funny thing to say when typing this blog entry on a new-to–me Mac, but this blog is a place for honesty, so that’s what you get.

Right off the bat, the fact that Monday’s blog is appearing on Tuesday is probably an indication of how this week is going, but I figure I can deal. The week will end in my second off the grid retreat, including some up close and purr-sonal time with my fuzzy mews, lunch with co-writer, Melva, to talk about the next steps for Drama King, our sophomore effort, and, possibly most importantly, uninterrupted reading and/or writing time.

Yes, I am bringing the Mac. No, he does not have a name yet (yes, my electronics have genders, and yes, I am sure) but he is a boy. I do have a favorite contender for the name, but still keeping it quiet for a while. There will most likely, in the not too distant future, skins, and a case, and at the very least, a pretty keyboard cover. I want to bring this laptop into my family the right way. Still looking at options, so updates and pictures when things are settled.

Settled is a funny word to use right about now, as not a lot in several areas of life is actually settled. We are still crunching numbers about Forever Apartment, and my office, right now, is a leaky air mattress on the living room floor, as the folding chair and tv tray arrangement meant either happy eyeballs and grouchy back, or grouchy eyeballs and happy back. Since writers generally fare better with as few grumpy body parts as possible, a decent laptop, air mattress, and armrest pillow, seem to be the best solution for the time being. I am hoping that the end of this week will not include a casualty report for the miniature rose plants, but not ruling it out. This is my first time with roses, so some casualties are to be expected.

This would normally be a good place to say “it’s like that with writing,” only this isn’t my first time with writing. Not every project is going to pan out. That’s truth. Unpleasant, but truth. Yet, at the same time, the rest of the month will see two anthology submissions published, so there’s that to anticipate, I am going on retreat, which nets me not only time alone with my mews, but an environment free of distraction, and this morning brought a gracious invitation to speak again at the first RWA chapter I ever joined, which felt very much like an affirmation. They asked me back. I’m doing something right.

One month from now, I will be packing to go to Connecticut Fiction Fest, which deposits me in a hotel full of other writers, both romance and otherwise, for three days of full immersion networking, workshops, one of which I am co=presenting, and Chasing Prince Charming will hopefully get some love from the critique appointment Melva made. The manuscript is once again making he rounds of editors and agents, so we will see what transpires with the new and improved version, as we move on to Drama King.

This week, my library haul found a new home, in the top shelf of the rolling cart in the kitchen, and I noticed that, for the first time in a while, my historical romance titles outnumber the YAs. It’s tight, but historical romance is winning, and that, also, is encouraging. One thing I never thought would happen would be that I’d feel resistance to reading my favorite genre, but life is funny like that. Depression is part of it, the losing interest in things one normally likes, and there are times when a book looks so…big…that even the thought of embarking on that many pages makes me tired. Yes, I know, some YAs have more pages than some historical romances, but right now, I’m finding most historicals are part of series, and the mere thought of having to read three, four, five, or more books, before I can get to the new one that’s caught my eye (yes, I do have to read series in order; I’ve tried otherwise, and I don’t like it) is likely to go into the “too much trouble” file, and I’m probably missing out on some really good reads. At least for now. YAs, at least the ones I’ve been reading, are more likely to be standalone, and, at present, a story that’s complete in itself if what works for me.

So, why did the scale tip on this week’s library run? I can’t say There will probably  be another post on this, later, and maybe a book haul video, so I can share my choices with you. Maybe there’s a pattern I’m not seeing. I know that writing goes better when I’m doing certain things, and one of those is reading books that have me sorry to put them down, and eager to open them at the next opportunity.

For now, though, it’s writing time. Outside my window, there is a delicious thunderstorm, and my reward for writing-anything; it doesn’t have to be perfect, or even usable, it only has to be written- is putting my Sims games on the Mac, followed by, quite possibly a cup of tea, and a good book. Thankfully, I am bribable that way.

 

Return of the Video Blog?

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The fact that the first blog of the week is up on Wednesday should be some indicator of how the week is going over here. That picture up there? :points to featured image: Also an indicator, because the picture I did take of my workspace for the day (lan desk, on top of the air mattress, Big Pink, blush planner, and Typhoo tea in my A mug) is not showing in Google Photos. I am going to guess that not getting any sleep until six in the morning has something to do with this fact. I also suspect that said sleep only lasting three hours has something else to do with the issues at hand.

Suffice it to say I am more than a bit pushy, which may actually be a good way o go into a writing day. So far, I’ve busted open some scented pens and made some longhand notes on Drama King. Melva and I agreed to take two weeks off (this being the second) before we came back to Drama King, but Jack is a hard hero to shut up, especially when he’s been waiting totally not at all patiently, for attention.

Right now, what I want most is a nap, That will probably happen, at some point, but it’s the start of a new month, the home stretch of summer, time to fill the well and gather speed for the surge of my super powers that return in autumn. It’s off and on raining, though ambient rain sounds on my computer means rain all the time. I like rain. Rain makes me think, and thinking is good when it comes time to do actual writing. Which is big surprise, now. First order of business, blog entry (I’ll make up Monday’s entry, later.) No time to overthink that kind of thing today, so I will go with what’s been on my mind.

For the last couple of nights, I’ve meant to navigate to Netflix or Hulu, but found myself, instead, on YouTube, watching book related videos, mostly reviews or recommendations. I’d first stumbled upon these videos when I was flat out too tired to read, but still wanted to be around historical romance,  and started gobbling them like popcorn. Get me talking about the historical romances I love, and we are going to be there a while. Some of the posts are focused on what the reader doesn’t like, and, for the most part, it’s done without malice, that X didn’t work for that individual, why, and that others’ experience may be different. Also, for the most part, the historical romances touched upon are A) of recent publication, and B) the words, “fluff,” or “fluffy” get tossed around a lot, and I love how much these readers love what they love.

That’s how I feel about a lot of older, or lesser known, or gritty, or angsty, etc, historical romance, and I do miss blabbering about books I love at Heroes and Heartbreakers, so maybe this is a good time to start doing that for myself? Maybe it is. Still thinking about that one, because video blogs take time, and writing new fiction does have to come first. Even though my current pleasure reading has skewed heavily, lately, to realistic YA, my home is still historical romance, and I’m hungry for more time with it.

There are logistics to that. The Hypercritical Gremlins (it’s harder for them to get to the apartment, because we live in a secure building and there’s no way I’m buzzing them up from the entryway) needle that nobody wants to hear me blabber about books, even though I literally did that for monies for several years, so there, Hypercritical Gremlins. You guys can shush. It might, at times, be a distraction, but then again, time spent examining what I love and why I love it, is a great way to stay in touch with the reasons I do this whole fiction writing thing, in the first place.

Yesterday, I sat in a Dunkin Donuts with SueAnn Porter, over beverages and bagels, and had a marvelous discussion about works in progress, and the importance of historical fiction/romance, and…:happy sigh.: Yeah. That. There is nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing, like sinking into another time and place, where two people have to be together, but can’t…until they find a way to make it work. I live for that stuff. Fluff is often a hard sell for me (though there is some great fluff out there, for sure) but when a love story  can hit me hard in the gut, make me cry, and then pull through with the happily ever after, after all (happily ever after all?) there really is nothing better. That’s what I want to provide for my readers.

Maybe this is an additional way to do that. Maybe it’s not. What I do know is that blabbering about things I love is fun, so odds are that I am probably going to give it a shot in the not too distant future. My retreat with Skye is coming up in under two weeks, so I will have laptop, cat, and all the time in the world. Might have to give it a go. What kinds of books would you like to hear/see me blabber about? Drop suggestions in the comments, and I may give it a go.

 

Typing With Wet Claws: Coming Up Roses Edition

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Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday, straight from Camp Grandma. I have some big mews…uh, that is news…to share with you this week. First, Any has had her essay, “Greetings From Boxvile,” accepted for publication in the New York’s Emerging Writers nonfiction anthology. If you can count (and you probably can,) that means Any will have two short pieces, coming out in anthologies, very soon. Stay tuna, um, I mean tuned, for further details. Tuna wouldn’t hurt, either. Just saying.

The other bit of news is that Any will be having another retreat with me, in August. We are both looking forward to that, very much. There has been talk of.a laser pointer. This intrigues me. Anty will spend some of the time resting, some of the time writing, and some of the time playing with me. That last one is probably where the laser pointer would come into play. I am told there will be more peanut butter, (yay) but that it is a people food (boo.) Anty Kara, who helps a lot of kitties, and is very smart, says that I can safely have a pinky-nail sized bit of the organic peanut butter Anty likes, but I cannot have any peanut butter that has xylitol in it. I do not know what xylitol is, so maybe I Had better stick to cat food, just to be safe. I am very big on staying safe.

I am also very big on following the rules for blogging here, so that I may keep that privilege (Anty, as you might imagine, is the most dominant on that matter) which means that I had better get down to business and tell you where to find Anty’s writing on the interwebs this week. There is a little problem here, and I will tell you what that problem is. That problem is that I do not yet know how to work the new computer, and so I cannot copy and paste the link to Anty’s Buried Under Romance post, or its picture. I am very sorry about that, but when you put together new technology, special paws, and a remote connection, there is going to be a learning curve.

What I can do for you is this. Bookmarking http://www.buriedunderromance.com will make sure that you can always find Anty’s posts there, and read a lot of great book reviews and interviews, as well. That is a pretty sweet deal. I highly recommend it. Anyway, Anty’s post this past week was about romance novels in disguise. That is not about people in romance novels, who wear disguises, (though Anty likes those quite a lot, but that is another post) but it is about books that do not say they are romance novels, but totally are. Outlander, Anty is looking at you.

Did you figure out that the same thing applies to the links to Anty’s Goodreads challenge? You are very smart. Also, Sebastian is kind of useless as a statistician, but he is very good at cuddling, and I do not like cuddles from anybody (well, Uncle, in extenuating circumstances. He is my favorite, and I love him the most.)  I can let him slide a little. According to current count, Anty has read sixty books out of the ninety that are her goal for 2018, which puts her at sixty-seven percent of the way home, and nine books ahead of schedule. That is not too shabby, though I would be remiss if I did not point out that she needs to step it up with the historical romance reading, already.

The book Anty liked most this week was a YA novel, called Munmum, by Jesse Andrews. Anty has already read two other books by Mr. Jesse, Haters and Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, which she loved, so she was pretty sure she would like this one, too, even though it is what the humans call magical realism. I think that is what humans call it, when it is like our regular world, but with one thing different. That thing, in this case, is that humans are bigger or smaller, according to how much money (or munmun) they have. The little poor people are very small, like rat sized, and so are in danger of dire peril in the form of cats. Also other things, but I can only speak for cats, as I am one. Not all cats are as bloodthirsty as the cats in this book.  The ones that are, are only doing their jobs.

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Another new development is that Anty (and Uncle and Mama, but we all know who’s taking care of these things) now has roses. When Anty and Mama went to buy flowers for Miss H, they did not find any that Miss H would like, but Anty did fall in love with three miniatures rose bushes, so now they live on the windowsill in For-Now Apartment. Their names are York (white roses,) Lancaster (red roses,) and Tudor (red-and-white roses.) They look like this:

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Tudor, Lancaster, and York

If they are not in order, that is because Anty moves them around. Lancaster was hogging all the sun, which is why he was, at the time Anty started rearranging them, the biggest. Anty thinks everybody should get a shot at the good sunlight. Today, it is raining, so they are all out of luck, but that is the plan. For those who are worried about how the roses and I will get along, please do not. I am a floor girl and they are window guys (girls? How do you tell? Or does it no matter?) so we will probably never be on the same level.

I would say something about how rotating the roses compares to Anty working on different projects, in turn, but We are burning daylight, and Anty is making move it along motions, so I guess that means that is about it for this week. More announcements, concerning the anthologies, CT Fiction Fest, and Chasing Prince Charming, still to come. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

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Where on earth is my signify picture on this thing?

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

Rambling, Beneath The Roses

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Welp, one day behind on the blogging thing, the photo editor I usually use is giving me guff (but on multiple machines, so it’s probably them and not me) and the picture I thought I was going to use for a different sort of header, I did not actually take as a photo, but sent as a direct message to a friend. It’s that kind of day. Right now, I am in my newest writing nook, which probably will not be permanent but it sure is comfy.

There is now a full sized air mattress taking up most of the living room. I have an armrest pillow in place, and the head of the mattress is flush with the wall, so I do have back support. The new futon/bed is in the bedroom, which feels kind of inside-out-y, but I’m going to roll with it. My house, my rules right? The mattress is also directly below the three rosebush plants (mini variety,) York, Tudor, and Lancaster, (white, red and white, and red, respectively) that captured my heart on Saturday morning. Appropriate plant life for a historical romance writer, if there ever was such a thing.

The weather is pretty darned decent (by my standards) today. Light rain, off and on, temperate enough that I can actually cover my flesh without feeling smothered, and, maybe most important of all, cool enough for tea. A sign of autumn to come? I sure hope it is, because I am pretty much (i.e. totally) done with summer. Seeing as how we’re at the end of July, that is not surprising. There is a lot on my mind, these days, so I’m going to put a bunch of it here, and get along with my day.

First off, I have a new item to add to the Coming Soon page. My essay, “Greetings From Boxville,” will appear in the New York’s Emerging Writers nonfiction anthology, from Z Publishing. I angsted a lot about that essay, then finally wrote what basically amounts to a blog entry, and sent that sucker on its way. This may be something to remember; when in doubt, do what comes naturally.

There is Chasing Prince Charming news. Melva and I agreed, on Monday, that we are done-done with this draft, and it is going back out into the wide world at the end of the week. Eep. Been a while since this kind of thing has happened, but it’s exciting, too, this regaining of the metaphorical stride. Melva and I are taking two weeks off to work on individual projects, and write down notes on Drama King, then come back together and get that story back in gear. This time, we know how we write a book together, along with each other’s strengths and not-so-strengths, and the story world is no longer uncharted territory.

Sleep has been, for the past couple of weeks, to use a technical term, poopy. Last night was my first good, full, night’s sleep in a while, and I appreciate the heck out of that. I could use a few more nights like that, aka all of them. Cooler temperatures help, but the fact that I could get up this morning and make tea, without feeling as though I had to drag my own corpse from wherever I was when I figured sleep was not going to happen, so may as well have caffiene, followed by midmorning crash, is enough to put a bounce in my step. Hence the actual blogging.

When I am done with this, there will be fiction writing, which, right now, feels like a rare treat. I had hoped to use July to outline the selkie story, but that’s not what happened, though I still want that story to happen, as well as A Moment Past Midnight. Not sure, right now, I I want to target one of those for November and NaNo, wait until Her Last First Kiss is at the end of its second draft. I’ll figure it out.

Sometimes, a change of perspective can be a good thing. There’s probably something to be said for being closer to the ground when I write, these days. The desk I’ve loved as long as I can remember, with accompanying office chair, is still in storage, and looks like they will remain there until we move to the next place, so finding where my writing space is, in this apartment, is of paramount importance. A lot of us writers are going to have a lot of different writing places in our lives. Yesterday, Housemate asked me if I missed Old Apartment. I said no. I miss having Skye home from camp, and I miss going to my favorite coffee house to write (which I can still do; it’s only a bus ride away) whenever I wanted it, but it was time to make a change.

Sometimes, it’s like that with writing. There are times to strike out and try something new, and then there are times when the best thing to do is go home. Sometimes, those two things can happen at the same time. Funny how that works. I love it when things that shouldn’t fit together, do, and in the very best of ways. Is this a new season of that starting? Hope so.

New Kid In Town

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Some things escalate quickly. At some point last week, I was doing my normal chat thing with H, who mentioned she was getting new furniture. This meant the old furniture, still in good condition, had to go somewhere, and it was free for the taking. A quick consult with the rest of the family, and Google Maps, and Saturday turned into Road Trip Day, as we crossed three states, to bring home two coffee tables, a kitchen table, one floor lamp, and the big surprise, a laptop.

Well then. Game changer. My back and eyeballs both thank H, profusely, and fears that meeting in person would be one of those things where chatting with an internet buddy doesn’t translate so well into face to face in the really real world. That did not happen in this case. Two meals, a walking tour of H’s lovely town, and one glass of homemade strawberry mint lemonade later, we loaded up Housemate’s car, plans for future visits, both ways, bandied about, and headed for home.

The day after was pretty much useless, because we were all tired puppies, and generally lazed about, tossed a frozen pizza in the oven, and made some attempts at computer games. Mine were on my existing desktop, because A) that’s where my saves were, B) I didn’t have to move from my comfy corner, and C) the same “this person I have been chatting with daily, for a year and a half, will obviously hate me, within five minutes of meeting in real life” (again, this did not happen) nervousness shows up when one is gifted a pretty darned nice computer. Forget stomach butterflies. This is stomach vampire bats.

Which is why I pushed myself (distinctly hearing H’s voice in my head, instructing. me to do so) and opened the darned thing. I found what looked like the closest thing to Word (once again, my first Mac, so whole new language going on there) and put fingers to keys. There was some uninteresting blabbering as I threw random words onto the blank white screen, and then two very important words appeared. What if, when I wiped this computer, and made it mine, I made it a writing only computer? No distractions. I do not count Sims 4 as a distraction, because it’s a great way to let actual, for-monies, stories do their thing on the back burner, while I play with my pixel people. I have other devices that can handle everyday things, so this one…this one can be where my imaginary friends come and do their thing.

I blinked at the screen for a moment, because that felt…sneaky. No bells and whistles, only fiction and blogs (and Sims, let’s be real.) What if this is part of life taking a new turn, this time, in a good direction. So far, so good, two days into this whole Mac thing. I don’t think I’ve launched missiles at Norway, or shut down the power grid, at least not yet. So far, it’s basically what I do on any other computer, with the addition of a blessedly empty document folder. Keeping things streamlined and classy; I think I could get used to that.

In a way, it’s fitting to add a new device to the family right about now. The new planner is also going the streamlined and classy route, so this makes sense. Writing planner, writing outer; it’s a natural pairing. Trio, really, because by themselves planner and keyboard are only objects. It’s when the human element comes into play, when I carve out the time for writing (and having deadlines written down is a huge, huge help in not-losing things in all the mind-clutter) and then saying a firm “no” to everything that is not writing, for that time, that’s when the magic happens.

Is a new computer going to be a magic wand that suddenly makes everything better? No, but my. back and my eyes are sure happy, and the chance to start fresh, on a machine that has seen no miscarried stories (of mine; H may tell a different tale, pun intended) is …”nice” doesn’t feel like the right word to use here. Too pat. Too expected. More like it’s one of the pieces of the puzzle, clicking into place. As my favorite Dutch proverb has been saying for hundreds of years, “pray to God, and row to shore.”

 

 

 

 

Typing With Wet Claws: X Edition

annabowling 2 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday, coming to you from Camp Grandma. Anty says that most of these updates are probably going to fall into the “special” cat-egory (see what I did there?) until August. That is not too far away, so I suppose I can deal. Camp is fine, and all, and I am learning a few things from Grandma, like the fact that peanut butter is delicious, and jailbreaks can be fun, even if Grandma does have a lot of carpet. I will probably not be going on too many jailbreaks tis weekend, though, because Mama will be visiting camp. Anty has to stay home and write, or she would come along, too. She will come see me, soon.

Anyway, this post is not so special that I can skip the big rule of these posts, and that is that I have to talk about Anty’s writing first, before I am allowed to talk about anything else. That is usually Anty’s writing, anyway, but it Is what it is. As always, Anty was at Buried Under Romance on Saturday, talking about her summer reading bucket list. That means the books that Anty intends to read over the course of the summer. Spoiler alert: she will not stick to that list. That post is here, and it looks like this:

BURbucketlist

This segues nicely into the next part, which is Anty’s Godreads reading challenge. Remote surveillance tells me that Sebastian has found a sunbeam in the living room window, which may account for his slowness in crunching Anty’s numbers for this challenge, but, since Goodreads shows that she is currently ten books ahead of schedule, we will let it slide…for now. Anty’s favorite read of the past week is Leave Me, by Gayle Forman. Miss Gayle usually writes books about almost-grownups, but this book is about actual grownups.  Anty’s review can be found here, and the book looks like this:

BUT leavemeformanAnty has vague ideas of attempting to duplicate the cover design in one of her art notebooks. That looks pretty easy, because it is lines of color, and that’s that.  Anty may find a few surprises when she tries it, though, and that is okay. There are a lot of surprises in the writing life.

Right now, Anty is muttering bad words because of one surprise, and that is that the all day workshop with Gwen Hayes, on Romancing the Beat, will be held on September eighth, which is right in the middle of CT Fiction Fest, which Anty cannot skip, because she is part of it, because she and Anty Melva will be presenting “Writing Through The Tears/Save the Writer, Save the Book.” In a perfect world, Anty would be able to go to both, but this world is far from perfect, so she will have to deal. I strongly suggest she stop by Camp and see me on the way home. That is, unless we are in Forever Apartment by then, in which case she should come straight home and make u for all the missed scritches.

This weekend, Anty will be doing her last-last pass of Chasing Prince Charming, and passing it back to Anty Melva. Then, that is that, and back out it goes. If she has time, she will transcribe the handwritten stuff she has on the selkie story, and do some research on that. Miss N also has gently reminded Anty of how close Anty is to a completed second draft of Her Last First Kiss, and that it is time to start thinking about what project is going to be next.

This is a place that Anty has not been for a while, but that does not mean that it is totally unfamiliar. Anty looks forward to starting new things, like the selkie story, and bringing other things, like Her Last First Kiss and A Moment Past Midnight to their happily ever afters and jumping back on the submission circuit once again. Anty Melva has been handling that for Chasing Prince Charming, but, for the books Anty writes by herself, she will have to handle things like queries and pitches.

Pitches are better than queries for Anty, because Anty is an extrovert, and talking to people face to face is super fun. Synopses and queries, though, are another story. Pun intended. Another part of the writing process that is fun, is brainstorming new ideas, which Anty plans to do with both the selkie story and A Moment Past Midnight. The fact that Anty does not, at present, have a brainstorming group, may prove a challenge, but that is okay. Anty likes this kind of challenge, and she knows a lot of writers, so I am sure that she can find people who would like to do that with her.

To reward herself for doing the last-last work on Chasing Prince Charming, Anty plans to watch some movies, and dive into a couple of historical romance novels that she got out of the library, to re-immerse herself in the genre. She is going to need them, because I am all too familiar with her separation anxiety with a story, once the book is done-done. Maybe this time will be different, because she is writing these books with Anty Melva, and they know what book is next. One never can tell, though, so I will send extra love beams, just in case they are needed.

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

SkyeByeTemp

Why Did It Have to Be Selkies?

annabowling 2 Comments

When I was but a wee princess, my parents, or some well meaning family friend, gave me a book of folk tales of the British Isles. I. Loved. That. Book. I still have it, though it’s in storage right now, so I can’t refer to it, but, when I needed to pick a project to work on for July’s Camp NaNo, I landed on selkies.

Not literally. They probably wouldn’t like that very much, but, once the idea was there, it put down roots, so okay. At first, it was mermaids. There I was, on retreat with Skye, and I had my Jane Davenport Whimsical Girls book out, turned to a page with two female figures. I surveyed my color choices. The faces looked similar, so maybe two versions of the same woman? Realistic and fantasy, maybe? Human and mermaid? Ooh. What if they were half sisters?

I whipped out the appropriate medium, and let my brain do its own thing while I swooped color across the page. By itself, the story formed. It’s a historical romance, first and foremost, (not between the sisters) with some familial conflict, and it doesn’t feel so much “paranormal” as one side of the family happens to be selkies. I was thinking mermaids at first, but there is the mermaid problem, Namely, how to put this gracefully, have intimate mermaid/human relations. This would be essential, so a quick bit of searching on aforementioned folklore of the British Isles was in order.

Which brings me to the selkie problem. Not the same as the mermaid problem, because selkies seem to have it easier in the human relations department. Shed seal skin, have human form. Sorted. Selkies, in many stories, become involved with humans, reproduce, and sometimes go back to the sea. Whether or not they can take their special friend with them varies, and I’m good with that. Works out rather well for what my story people want to do, and gave me a moment of clarity on why sting named one of his albums Soul Cages.

What, exactly, you might ask, is the selkie problem? For this gal, it’s names. Naming a character is an important part of the process, and, frequently, for me, it’s more a matter of them telling me what their names are. They won’t answer to anything else. I still have an outline draft with a hero who didn’t even know his own name until the very last chapter. (I am definitely going back to that one, someday,.) What the heck does one name a selkie? What do selkies, or, in a more broader scope, mythical/legendary creatures call themselves?

Thankfully, I neglected to officially sign up for July’s Camp NaNo, so I am doing it unofficially, with my goal to figure out this whole story, and what the heck I am doing even thinking about it, because I am not a paranormal writer, and the last time I ventured into that realm, my life fell apart, and I ended up ugly crying during a critique group (that had only positive comments, by the way) in the middle of a coffee house. The ugly crying incident had nothing to do with  me moving to a different state, but it does give me a sense of security that I never have to face that barista again.

This is the part of the process where I start writing down what I know about the story, telling it to myself. Kind of folktale-y, definitely historical romance, flying into the mist sort of thing. At the same time, Melva and I are thisclose to getting Chasing Prince Charming back to the editor who invited us to revise and resubmit, then will turn our attention back to Drama King. On my own, N is not letting me squiggle out of getting back in the saddle for Her Last First Kiss  so there is no lack of things to do. So, why toss another project into the mix? \

Good question. The best answer I have at this moment is “because I can.” Consider it the writing equivalent of physical/occupational therapy. I’m glad I did my May Camp Nano the way I did, and it is still simmering, goal met, so I can figure out exactly how my couple solves their problem. What is it that makes my heroine know what she has to do? I don’t know that yet, but it will come, and likely when I am slipping into a sealskin and taking it out for a spin.

In the meantime, hit me with selkie names. I’ll take anything.

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Typing With Wet Claws: Post-Retreat Edition

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Hello, all. Skye here, for a very special Maine Coon Monday. If you are wondering where I was for Feline Friday this past week, (besides Camp Grandma, of course) I was in time out. I have never been in time out before, so that was a new experience, but more about that later.

Anty and I have had an eventful retreat, and I am here to give the cat’s eye view of what went down. Besides Anty, that is. She pretty much slept the whole first day, which was really the first afternoon, because Mama and Grandma did not leave until after lunch. I did not mind. In fact, I took advantage of Anty’s nap, to sneak in a ninja cuddle. That is when there is a human asleep on the floor (it does not happen very often, because humans generally sleep on furniture, but Anty was really tired)  and I sneak over and lie down so close that we are touching. If they wake, then I get startled and run away, then come back. This time, I did not run away, but Anty only  kind of halfway woke, and gave me head scritches, so I I would say that worked out pretty well. I snuck in a few more ninja cuddles, because I am smart like that.

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Anty’s Plan

This picture shows Anty’s plan for the week. Since Camp Grandma does not have interwebs, Anty could not be distracted by things like Facebook and Netflix and games. As it turned out, that plan worked pretty well. Anty read three whole books over the four days of retreat (not the one pictured, but I will give a full rundown of all books read, on my regular Friday post) and wrote a total of twenty eight regular notebook sized pages. That is to say, not the mini legal pads she had intended to use (but she will use those soon enough; Anty loves mini legal pads. Also the big ones, but they have to be pretty.) She also did not use those particular pens, but she did use all of the ink that had been in four of her previous travel ballpoints, so she really did need new pens. Add in morning pages (always three) and evening pages (not every night, but most of them) and what do you think happened?

What happened was that, when Anty wasn’t even thinking about it, bloop, there was the idea for her next Camp NaNo story. The one from May is still cooking. Anty did a lot of brain dumping, and then, bloop. She’s off and running. Since one of the days of retreat, Anty had lunch with Anty Melva, they got to talk about Chasing Prince Charming, and only have a couple of things to do, before they can send the book back to the editor for another look. They also talked about things they want to do for Drama King, and, when things calm down in their personal lives, about a nonfiction project they think would be fun.

Besides the books with Anty Melva, Anty’s main focus is to get the second draft of Her Last First Kiss ready to roll. I will let Anty tell you about what she plans for the Camp NaNo story, but it is both a nice change of pace, and going back to her roots, so it should be fun. Anty likes to stay busy writing, so writing time is now officially a priority.  Part of that involved setting up the desktop computer when she got back from retreat. Right now, it is not on a desk, but on a TV tray. The CPU is on top of a filing cabinet (Anty is still looking for pretty hanging folders for that cabinet, so if you know where to find some, drop a link in the comment box.) So far, so good. Writing on the desktop is much easier than on the laptop or phone.

The rest of it is really Anty’s to tell, but you are probably wondering why I did not post on Feline Friday (apart from the fact that it was Anty’s travel day.)  Anty says that I am still a very good kitty, and would like to point out that I have never, in my entire life, gone after people food, before I went to camp. During the retreat, I went for people food, twice. The first time, Anty took the sandwich away from me before I could actually put my face on it, but the second time, she left her rice cake with peanut butter on it, where I could get it, and, well, I got it. Anty chased ne away from the dish and reminded me that I am a kitty and am not supposed to eat people food. Grandma’s house, Grandma’s rules, though, right? Anty took the rice cake away, but I kept licking the peanut butter from my mouth. I can see why she likes peanut butter as much as she does.

The other thing that capped my time out was the jailbreak. Anty had slept on the couch, and came to my room to give me breakfast, but – plot twist- I was not in my room. The door was open. I was in the room across the carpeted hall, where I had, um, made some stuff.  Anty put me back in my room, then cleaned up the stuff. Speaking of which, Grandma and I have reached an accord on the stuff place business, which is a relief to everybody. Pun intended.

That is about it for this week, so, until our next, regularly scheduled meeting, I remain very truly yours,

SkyeByeTemp

In the Absence of Wirkshop X

annabowling 1 Comment

Right now, I am between two loads of laundry, which means two trips to the laundry room, which means using the first trip to teach me what I want to bring on the second trip. I am still learning the new apartment, the new apartment building, the new apartment complex, the new neighborhood, and a whole bunch of other news. Sleep has been not-great, which means a lot of time, in the dark, thinking about life, both writing and otherwise.

June is a ninja. Spring had only started, and now, wham, look, it’s summer. June 1st is my date with Charter Oak Romance Writers, on a topic I feel both eminently qualified, and wholly unfit to present. Allow me to ‘splain.

Save The Writer, Save The Book (STWSTB,) or Writing Through the Tears (WTTT,) depending on who you ask, came about when Melva Michaelian and I both missed the notices that Workshop X (so called, because I cannot, for the life of me remember what the actual topic was, or the name of the presenter who was unable to make it that year) had been cancelled, and thus sat in an empty conference room for an hour. At first, we figured maybe everybody else was late. They were not, because we were it, because there was no workshop. There may or may not have been discussion of going to the workshop offered in place of Workshop X, or maybe another workshop, but we wanted the one that wasn’t, and we were tired, and things do tend to happen when we are left on our own at conferences. (CT Fiction Fest 2018 attendees, you have been warned) what we landed on was that we should have our own workshop.

STWSTB is a catchy name, and it does borrow from the tag line of the TV show, Heroes, which I have never seen. I don’t know if Melva has; you’d have to ask her. At the time, we were both caregivers to multiple relatives apiece, along with juggling other flaming stress chainsaws of life, and we both had the same question: how the fluff do yoy keep writing, with all this stuff going on?

I know, I know, dangling proposition above, but it’s appropriate. How do you keep writing? I want to know this. How do I? I want to know that, perhaps, even more. No offense; I am sure you are very interesting, and I could probably ask far too may nosy questions, but I am the only one who can write my books. I am half of the team that co-writes Melva’s-and-my books, so focusing on myself is probably a wise decision on my part.

I am not where Beginning Writer Me thought she/I would be, at this point in her/my career. We rather thought we would have a bit more to show for our efforts by now. We thought we would be writing from behind an antique dedk, in an off-site office, by now, walls covered in glossy posters of our book covers, not tapping out blog entries on our phone, from the air mattress in an apartment with blank cream walls, but, today, that’s what we’ve got.

There’s an old proverb, Japanese, I want to say, that says, fall down five times, get up six. That, I can do. Though, as with many adoptees, my genetic makeup is a mystery, I am fairly certain that I am at least thirty-five percent Weeble. Knock me down, and I get back up, because that’s how I’m made. Maybe that’s why I liked the punching clown toy as much as I did, when I was but a wee princess. Smack it down, and up it comes. Every. Time.

Sometimes, writing is easy. Sometimes, writing is hard. Sometimes, the answer to “how do you keep going?” is, that, sonetimes, you don’t. Not in a lie in a ditch and stop existing sense, but in a take a step back, drink root beer floats in a blanket fort and watch Netflix all afternoon sense. Or reading. Reading is good. Also doodling, or lying on your back, eyes closed, listening to music; all of that is good stuff. When I can’t put out, that usually means I need to take in, instead. Feed my senses. Feed my story brain. Talk to other writers, talk to other readers. Talk to four-legged (or finned or feathered) family members, because they are very good listeners and not at all pushy with advice. Talk to myself (I do that one a lot.)  Talk to the voices in my head, which, for most of us writers, are our characters, and, when the time is right, they will talk back. That’s how they’re built, too.