writing process

Sheeeeee’s Baaaaack

annabowling Leave a comment

Or close enough to it. One week and two days ago, we landed in our new apartment, but there is still another move ahead of us. Though the ad that led us to our current apartment said this was a pet friendly location, that was a mistake, so Skye is staying with Housemate’s mother, while we wait for a place that will fit all four of us. We do not expect that to be long, but there is still the question of what to bring into our current abode, and what we want to leave in storage until we are settled-settled, and the adventure continues.

Right now, my desk is my lap desk, my chair is the floor, with an armrest pillow behind me, and a fluffy throw tossed in for good measure. My computer is my phone, desktop to follow, when A) I can find it in the packed to the gills storage unit, and B) I can also find my desk, or a reasonable substitute, in the same unit. What is not under lock and key, however, is the desire, and the need, to write.

Because my life would not be my life without Unexpected! Drama! I am ensconced in my writing corner, waiting for pest control to return and drop off their item, and, at the same time, keeping one eye, and one ear, on a recovering Real Life Romance Hero, sprung from the hospital the day before yesterday, after a four day stay to treat an unfortunate incident. He is responding well and already wants to get back to work. Same with me.

Yesterday, I had my first breakfast with N, since moving out of the old apartment. Most of that time, I spent staring in deer in the headlights mode, due to stress and exhaustion, interpersed with sucking down possibly the largest iced tea I have seen in real life. There was also a bagel involved, but the real meat of the matter was writing, and where we each wanted our focus to be, in this coming season.

We talked of unfinished manuscripts, what makes them that way, and the experience of looking at things we had written in our respective way-back-whens. Sometimes, it’s “hey, this is pretty good.” Sometimes, it’s, “what was I thinking?” Sometimes, it’s “I can do this better/differently now.” Sometimes, there are no words, and the sentiment can be ezpressed only by pulling a sweatshirt hood over one’s head, and puling the drawstring,so that one’s face is comletely consumed by said hood, with possibly only the nose tip even visual to the casual observer.

We talked of how, sometimes, it isn’t possible to go back to a particular project, because we aren’t that person anymore, or we are no longer that writer. We did not speak of projects we mourn, but I have some, and I am sure she has some. I am even surer we are not alone in that, and that adds some substance to the feeling that we are in this together. (Inclusive we, for those keepng track of this sort of thing.)

There are days left, now, until the deadline for an anthology that asked me to submit to them, and, as I told N, at this point, I have no idea what I am going to send. The word count is low — a little more than flash fiction- and the fact that they found me bodes in my favor, so it’s as good a place as any to climb back on the metaphorical horse.

I have been writing, in the interim. Morning pages first thing (or as near to first as I can manage,) Camp NaNo pages, for the win that I needed that badly, and many, many btain dumps in between. A couple of nights ago, I started a bedside brain dump book; evening pages, if you will, as “bed,” right now, is an air mattress. So far, it mostly has notes on my experience of reading two different Laura Kinsale novels at the same time (no complaints) and what this kind of reading does to me (only good thngs) and how I want writing to go in this new phase of life.

I have a new neighborhood to explore, and, in the not too distant future, another one still. I have not been to the park across the way yet, or the corner bodega, but I know two ways to get to the Rite-Aid, and have already got on the wrong bus once, which led me to the right bus, so maybe it was not wrong after all.

While the desk and desktop and related accoutrements may still be in a holding pattern, the essentials are, at last, in place. Something to write with, something to write on, and smeone to write it, aka me. Feels good to be home.

Four Days and Counting

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Things I am never allowed to buy more of, ever again, ever:

  • Mini staplers and/or staple removers
  • staples for mini staplers and/or staple removers
  • Pencils
  • Sticky notes (except for the really big ones)
  • Paper clips (except for rose gold ones)

These restrictions come from my current packapalooza. All of the above have popped out at me from unexpected places, even, and maybe especially when I have already packed the office supplies, but wouldn’t you know it, there they are. This is where the plasticware I insisted on keeping comes in handy. Random small stuff busting out of nowhere? Pop that sucker into a container with those of its kind, slap a lid on it, label that lid (silver Sharpies are my friends) and we’re good to go.  Put smaller things in bigger things, find creative ways to lift the edge of packing tape when it falls back onto the roll, and keep on going.

Yesterday, Housemate reserved a storage unit. Today, we find out how soon we can start stuffing things into it. This move is leveling up, and, at the same time, a small village is taking shape. Not in a sit it down and plan it idea (though I do love planning) but more of a looking around and seeing who’s there approach.

I’ve always been character driven, and the stories almost always start with the characters for me. From the start, I knew A Moment Past Midnight would have a heroine, the two men she loved, and the choice she has to make. The first draft is kind of white-room-y, because I am pantsing this story a lot more than I usually do, but I am okay with that. As long as I get to hunker down in my remote village, and put my imaginary friends through their paces, I’m fine.

Today is the day for packing notebooks that I am actually using, and, effectively, putting my office (or this iteration of my office) to bed. In the next couple of days, we will be putting things in storage, and moving things to different destinations. I am firmly of the conviction that we don’t know exactly what material things we have, until we have to move them. At some point, I will be unboxing the vast majority of this stuff, and setting up a new office, then getting back to novel work.

Working on something shorter makes sense right now, and I like getting into the flow of opening a notebook, putting pen to paper, and letting the story take me where it will. I’m aiming for novella length, because the story problem is a relatively small one (my characters may disagree on the size of the problem, because it’s happening to them, and they were fine before I came along and messed with their status quo. Okay, two of them were doing fine. For the other, their current situation is somewhat of an improvement, though to what degree, is debatable.) I know where this story is going, but  how it gets there, that still has a few surprises.

I don’t have a Pinterest board for AMPM, though I do have properly sized page protectors for when/if I do print out any images of people, places, or things, but, right now, the village, and its inhabitants, live only in my head, and on the pink pages I fill every night. I’ve cleared the thirty page mark, which impresses me, because this is one wild ride on the domestic monsoon, but maybe the chaos is part of the process.

There’s a certain amount of free-floating of the story brain while doing uncreative things, like packing (though deciding what goes where, and how things can arrive at their next destination in the same amount in the same number of pieces with which they departed their last one, certainly takes  a special sort of creativity.) I wrap things, secure them, put them where they’re going to go, make labels for inside and outside the box, so we know what goes where, and what to expect when we slide the tape and lift out the items we want.

There will probably be some brain free-floating on that end of the move, as well. Since I’ve been reading more e-books lately, there aren’t as many physical books to deal with as there were for the last move, but there’s still a good number of them to place into the little free libraries within walking distance. Donation bins are waiting for clothing items we can no longer use, and other items will be dispersed other ways. I don’t want to blog only about the move, because I would rather talk about other things, but, on the other hand, it’s kind of hard to ignore.

Right now, time for blogging is done for this session, and time to put on Spotify and stick things in boxes is back. We’ll see which imaginary friends drop by to wander around my brainpan while I pack.

 

 

Six Days and Counting

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Six days now, until move-out day, and the pressure is most assuredly upon us. We’ll be turning in our cable box, which also takes care of our internet, on Friday, so internet access may be libraries and coffee shops for a little while. I still plan to keep as closely to the regular blog schedule as possible, but if you’re following the moving saga, and don’t already follow me on Twitter, you can do that right here.

I will admit to strong feelings when it comes to taking apart my desktop and getting it ready to move to short term storage. This means the laptop will be called back to regular duty, which means tipping it back a wee bit, because the screen goes black if I hold it upright (I have no idea why this is; machine works fine, but needs to be at an angle if I want to actually see anything.) The flip side of this will be setting up my desk in its new home, and carving out my writing space once more. Until then, the world is my office.

This is one way that being a longhand-first writer comes in handy. The notebooks I use most (see picture above) will go in a special bag that will travel with me, personally, because I am not in the mood to have these notebooks go walkabout in the moving process. Entertaining as they might be to any random person who stumbles up on them and can read my handwriting, I’d rather keep them close. I can’t speak for all writers having special relationships with their tools, but, for this writer, the answer is most definitely yes.

Case in point: this weekend, I attended a leadership meeting (say what you will about an organization that allows me to lead anything) and we were all encouraged to take notes. I did not need the offered pen or paper, because I had Big Pink, and my pen case, but I did make a troubling discovery. Said discovery being the kind that trikes terror into the heart of a notebook lover. My notes filled the last pages of my Moleskine Volant, with its perforated pages. Normally, I would swap this insert for another, but (you may want to grab onto something heavy, for support) I had already packed my inserts. All. Of. Them.

Going into a move when I do not have perforated pages is not going to work, and running out to purchase another pack of inserts is not on the schedule, but packing mode has sped up the making connections part of my brain. On that same day, I also had filled the last non-perforated page in my cahier. There was an unopened hardcover Moleskine, lined, in my bookcase-made-from-milk-crates in the living room. Move cahier to Volant’s place, put hardcover where cahier used to be, all purposes fulfilled, back to alternating between calculated confidence and running around in circles, flailing arms and screaming.

More calculated competence, when it comes to packing, and, oddly enough, in writing, as I am on track with my Camp NaNo progress. If I keep up at my current rate, I may very well finish before the end of the month, with room to spare. The story problem is a smaller one (or is it?) – get heroine back with the man she loves, and send her would-have-been second husband off into the sunset, eventually to land in a companion story. We’ll see how that goes.

Novel projects are on pause (or are they?) while we’re in transition, but part of packing includes digging up bones. One of these bones comes in a navy blue binder. Said binder is not the kind with space for me to put my own cover image behind a clear film, so I had no idea what I’d find, when I opened it. What I did find yanked me firmly into novel land. In Nothing Short of Heaven, which  initial version was, itself, a NaNo project (though regular or camp version, I cannot say) is, like Her Last First Kiss, set in Georgian England, and I won’t say I forgot about Slate and Melanie (because how could I?) but seeing them again, when I didn’t expect them, well that was something else.

Slate has no sense of self, while Melanie knows exactly who she is. Her theme song is “So What,” by P!nk. Her BS meter is set to zero, which serves her well, because Slate, well, he has some baggage. This book also has probably my favorite villain I’ve written so far, who prefers the title of Master to his actual name. I’m still planning on finishing the second draft of Her Last First Kiss first, but I wouldn’t mind getting reacquainted with Slate and Melanie, at all, when I’m done with this one.

Right now, I’m doing the thing in front of me -which is, apart from my nightly Camp NaNo pages, packing- and, at the same time, keeping an eye on the end goal. New apartment. Finished draft. New release. New notebook. (Hey, small perks can have big effects.) Later today, I’ll be viewing an apartment that is not only basically across the street from our current place, but the next door neighbor would be a takeout calzone restaurant. I will count that as an amenity.

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Typing With Wet Claws: I Live in Boxville Edition

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Hello, all. Skye here, with another Feline Friday. Moving day gets even closer, and there are a lot more boxes right now. This is not high on the cat-pleasing metee, These are not the fun kind of boxes that I have heard other cats like to get into (I do not go into boxes, because I am nt big on climbing or jumping) but the kind of boxes that all of our things go into. I would say I will feel more at ease when I see things come out of those boxes, but that will mean going to a different place. I do not like different.

Yesterday, Anty and Uncle looked at an apartment they liked very much, and the human who is in charge of that gave them a paper they need to fill out to find out if they can live there. Kitties are welcome, which is good. The actual moving stuff is not so much fun, but nobody has asked me to pack anything, so far, so I am not going to complain.

Even though some things are on hiatus while Anty deals with the move, other things are not. I still have to tell readers where they can read Anty’s writing on the interwebs, besides here, because anyone reading this is already here, and Anty is still at Buried Under Romance every Saturday. This past week, she talked about reading when life gets weird. That post is here, and it looks like this:

BURlifegetsweird

Even though Anty’s Goodreads challenge is on hold until the dust, figurative and literal, from the move settles, she is working hard on another challenge. That challenge is her story for Camp NaNoWriMo, A Moment Past Midnight. Anty is writing this story by hand, in a special notebook, which I will show you. That notebook I this one:

 

AMPMcoverpage.jpg

cover page and notes

Anty found this leathery paper holder while packing, and it had some paper in it, but not a lot. That meant she had to go out and get more paper if she wanted to actually write something, which is this paper:

AMPMblankpages

These are pages with no writing on them. It is Anty’s job to put writing on them. That is why she has a pen in the pen loop. Every night, she tells herself a new part of the story. That fills at least two pages, sometimes more. Anty plans to write at least fifty pages during this month. She has written, so far, nineteen pages, which is almost one half of the way to her goal. I think that is doing rather well. She has some notes she made about what she wants to write, but, for the most part, she is letting the story tell itself to her. There is not a lot of pressure that way. She does know where she started, and where she wants it to end, but there will be a few surprises along the way.

That is why she needs different kinds of paper, besides the regular writing paper, which is the pink paper. That other paper is part from a planner she had one or two cats ago, and part if that other paper, the other other paper, if you will, is a mini legal pad, by Punch Studio (do not worry, I did not get punched, and neither did Anty) :

AMPMpadredo

The mini legal pad is very pretty, which means Anty will want to look at it more. This is where she writes down things like ideas for supporting characters that would be around her protagonists (protagonists is a fancy word that means  the humans who have the most important roles in the story) or questions she needs to answer, or ideas for scenes and things like that. They are not part of the actual story, but they are important in creating the framework for it.

If you think you see a clear plastic page on the other side of the legal pad, you are right. That is also part of the old planner, as is the plastic bookmark that clips onto the rings. The plastic sheet is so that Anty always has a firm surface on which to write, no matter where she is. That will come in very handy during moving time.

So far, Anty has found that she likes writing by hand very much. She always knew this, but the fact that she does not transcribe anything yet, but goes straight to writing more pages by hand, makes this story feel different from the rest. She will see how she feels about that by the end of the month. Maybe this will be something she can carry over into future projects, and/or picking up the ones that are on hiatus.

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

skyebyenew

 

Like a Tornado Hit a Ghost Town

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Imagine that a tornado hit a ghost town. Now, imagine that the ghost town was comprised entirely of books, pens, and paper. That is basically what my office looks like at the moment. Our dining room is now Box Town, inhabited by our dining room table, the DVD cabinet, and a whole bunch of boxes. All of said boxes are, or were (i.e., items slated for donation) mine. Apart from the boxes of stuff to donate, and what I haven’t been through yet, the boxes are neatly stacked, and labeled and sealed. The labels state what’s inside the box, and, in case the label is somehow separated from the box in the process, there is an identical label inside the box, as well. The label also says what room the box came from, which is usually, but not always, also its destination in the new apartment.

We are still in the process of securing said new apartment, so stay tuned for updates as they come. Right now, what we have is packing. A lot of packing. Mostly mine, because A) I am the one who works at home every day, so I am the one physically in the building the most, to be able to put stuff in boxes, and B) I am awesome at organizing. Also, C) I am bossy , um, I mean, I have strong leadership skills.

This is why my involvement in packing Real Life Romance Hero’s and Housemate’s things will consist of pointing them towards boxes, tape, and Sharpies. Default answer to “where does X go?” is “storage.” Regardless of where we’re going, we are blowing this popsicle stand on the fifteenth, and, if we’re going to get there in decent shape, we have to work like a well oiled machine.

 

This whole moving business reminds me of writing,. not that oddly enough. Here are a few things I’ve learned thus far:

  • Putting away favorite things is hard. This one feels obvious, but needs stating anyway. Yesterday, I bit the bullet and boxed my favorite-favorite books. While moving while anxious is a whole new level of stress anyway, knowing that I won’t have my books in their shelves for the next two weeks, when I am going to be stressed the heck out cranks things up a level. Ditto for packing my art supplies. Putting favorite things away sucks, but it’s also a full commitment to closing this chapter and starting another.  One the books are in boxes, there is no going back.

 

  • More, lighter boxes. This goes with the above lesson. Books are heavy. Paper is heavy. Lugging unliftable boxes is not good for anybody’s back. The new protocol is thus: pack box halfway full of books/paper, then fill the space with lighter, softer things, like fuzzy throws/pillows, or stuffed animals, heavy sweaters, etc. Balance the heavy stuff with lighter, warmer stuff. Works in writing as well as in moving.

 

  • Don’t sweat the small stuff. There will be a lot of small stuff. The big stuff is more important. Put the small stuff together, pick one time to deal with it as a whole, and pack it or toss it as needed. Small things can fit inside big things, so they don’t get lost.

 

  • Pack your own area. This refers to my point above. Nobody knows how to pack your things like you do. Does it matter to how Housemate is packing her personal items? No, because they are not mine. The method that works for her may not make sense to me, and vice versa. In short, head down, and eyes on my own paper.

 

  • You need more tape. Doesn’t matter how much tape you have, or think you’ll need. You need more. Those box bottoms need to be secure, unless watching collectible, out of print books cascade down one or more staircases like a paginated waterfall is your idea of fun. If so, then feel free to fold flaps under and leave it like that. For the rest of us, we need more tape, or the bottom will fall out and spill everything. Also, packing tape is going to shred. That is a fact of life. Folding over the end of the strip (I like a forty-five degree angle, to make a triangular pull tab) is, however, a valid workaround.

 

  • You’re done when you’re done. As tempting as it may be to leave piles of junk in one’s wake, that’s not going to fly in moving, or in writing. Everything has to go somewhere, even if that “somewhere” is the trash. Keep, sell, donate, trash; it doesn’t have to go home, but it can’t stay here. Okay, when moving, technically, the stuff is going home, but work with me here. In writing, the story question has to be answered. For romance, this means the lovers need to end up together, and happy about it.  If either one of those isn’t in place by the end of the manuscript, that means the job isn’t done.

 

  • The job will, at one point, be done. There’s nothing for a writer like typing those two magic words, the end. With moving, that translates to bringing those boxes to the new place, wherever that may be, and slicking through the tape, opening the cardboard flaps, and putting everything where it belongs, once again. There’s the moment of saying “okay, that’s everything,” flopping down on the nearest piece of soft furniture, and realizing that one is home now. A different home, to be sure, and, maybe, there will be another move in the future, but moved-in is its own special  satisfaction. It’s also a darned good motivator when surrounded by boxes and dust, one eye on the ticking clock. Every step is one step closer to done.

With that in mind, I think I can handle the ghost town phase.

020418deskscape2

Domestic Monsoon Season

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This is a tough post to write. It’s also personal, but this is a blog about the writing life, and domestic tornadoes are part of that life. This time, it’s more of a domestic monsoon, which may disrupt the posting schedule for a few weeks. In  two words, we’re moving. This came upon us quickly, so the next couple of weeks are going to be mostly devoted to throwing things in boxes and scouting out new digs. Still a few bugs to figure out the whole process, but, on the other side, there will be a new normal, and I’m actually looking forward to that.

The details, for this blog, aren’t important, but if posting goes a wee bit wonky for a while, that’s why. For me, writing is my happy place, so, even though we are dealing with more than a few question marks (everybody is fine, and we are all together) there’s a surge of MOAR WRITING within my story brain. This seems counterproductive, when there is a lot of adult-ing to be done, but the surge is loud, and insistent, and it won’t turn off, so I’m going with it.

Camp NaNo is still a go (cabins should be assigned soon, yes?) and, since my goal is set in pages, not words (is this a thing with regular NaNo as well? Because that would be amazing.) I can pop a notebook in my bag, even a slender, cahier style book, and be good to go, literally any time or anywhere.  Transcription can happen when the dust settles, and N, at our weekly breakfast, said she thinks I should have an idea for the second book in this village world thing ready to go, in case I get all the way through a half draft of the first one. I appreciate the vote of confidence.  Maybe the cahiers will be one of these beauties:

02notebookhaul

Packing the office is kind of a love/hate thing for me. I hate to tear apart my Hobbit hole, but it also gives me a chance to examine, reassess, and make decisions. What’s most important to my writing life? What can carry on to the next phase, and what gets passed along to somebody else? What gets tossed? What needs to go into storage for use another day? What, for that matter, could turn a profit, large or small? Interesting questions, all. I like interesting questions.

Interesting questions usually have equally interesting answers, and, when the monsoon has passed, there will be the clam after the storm, and then, new things will bloom. In June, I will be presenting a workshop, topic to be announced, at Charter Oak Romance Writers. Skye or I will add details as they are finalized, but those in the CT/Western MA area are welcome to save the date for June 2nd.

Appropriately enough, one of the potential topics is a workshop I created, with my contemporary co-writer, Melva Michaelian, called Save the Author, Save the Book. This workshop was born when Melva and I arrived early for a conference workshop, that we hadn’t realized was cancelled. We joked about making our own workshop, and, as we were both dealing with domestic monsoons then, as well, we found our topic easily. Consider it self care for writers, or how to write through stressful times.

There’s nothing like a domestic monsoon to put things in perspective. Novel work may be tricky when juggling metaphorical chain saws in daily life, but getting a few pages of rough-rough draft of a novella in longhand? Totally do-able. Hey, it means new notebook, picking out a pen, and the excitement of beginning a new story. The big projects will still be there when the monsoon has abated, and, perhaps, be even better for the time to marinate.

For some writers, domestic monsoon season is a time for writing, in general, to marinate, and I love that more than one writer friend has reminded me that there is that option, but the desire to write, and to write up to The End, has only intensified since the monsoon began. Is that the way things are “supposed to” go? I have no idea. When domestic monsoon season hits, that’s when a special flavor of Get It Done mode kicks in, so maybe it’s not that unusual that it would carry over into writing, in general.

TLDR: (too long, didn’t read) Deskscapes are going to look different for a while, but writing and blogging and stationery geekery endure.

TheWriterIsOut

Writer’s Bug-out Bag

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This morning, I hauled a much-needed load of laundry to our regular laundromat, to find the custodian hard at work, mopping the floors, two people happily chatting in the seating area, and both change machines out of quarters. Well. Although a gentleman I do not personally know offered to take my single dollar bills “to the store” to exchange for quarters, I declined the offer, and, instead, took a few blocks’ stroll to the other laundromat.

Plusses of other laundromat: it is pink, it has an attendant, and more machines, so no waiting. Minuses of the other laundromat: it is a few blocks away, and there is always news or talk shows on the TV, but I have headphones, and an ability to tune out unwanted noises when I want to write. Laundry time makes for good writing time, but, while I am happy to haul Big Pink and my fifty-nine pen case basically across the street while simultaneously juggling a basket full of laundry, the same does not hold when I need to cross the street twice, then take a four block stroll, carrying those same items.

Recently, Real Life Romance Hero received a complimentary small, zippered bag, from an organization to which he belongs. Because he is a man of fine taste and high intelligence, he offered the bag to me first. It should be about the size of Big Pink. Did I want it? Um, yes. Smart man.

While Big Pink does indeed fit in this bag, the pen case would not, buuuut, what if I could bring my absolute essentials with me, have them live in one bag, and so all I would have to do when headed on a laundry excursion of any distance (or park, or coffee house, etc) was grab it and go? Intriguing. Combine that with the required weekly trip to Michael’s, and we have:

 

01smallbagcovers

the essentials

The purple cover is for my Kindle (pop over three hundred books in my bag when I leave the house? Don’t mind if I do.) and the red cover is a 5×8 Piccadilly Essential. Moleskine, Leuchtrumm, or other books would also work, but I wanted to finish filling this one. The gold pen case (looked rose gold in the store, which is why I picked it over the pink one, but live and learn and always look in natural light) has an elastic that goes over the book, useful since the Piccadilly’s elastic went the way of the dodo some time back.

 

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Innards

 

The paper is ivory (much, much better for my tired eyes than white) and lined, and the pen case is perfectly sized for six Stabilo fineliners, and one Frixion highlighter.

Because I prefer a visual break between brain dump sessions, or between subjects/scenes/insert own unit of demarcation here, I stuffed a small book of washi tape strips and stickers into the back pocket. The facing page has sticky notes, because a book is not truly mine until it has sticky notes sticking out of it. Slip pen case around book, toss in bag, good to go.

 

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extras

The endpapers are my own addition; the book comes with plain ivory, but I couldn’t let that stand. This does not by any means take the place of Big Pink, but, if I am going to be hauling laundry for multiple blocks, or, hopefully seldom, going to the ER, especially in the wee hours, or other spontaneous trips where I want to have writing materials at hand that not only serve the function of something to write on, and something to write with, but feel like me, I’m good with this setup.

Having particular tools at hand isn’t essential, but it doesn’t hurt, either. It’s rather satisfying. If the longhand would transcribe itself, that would be even more convenient, but I am not complaining. The red book is almost full, after several attempts at prior purposes – another format of a commonplace book, my first attempt at making my own planner (it did not go well) and notes for posts for another site. This means that I get to pick out a new book to take its place when I’ve filled the last page…or maybe a not-so-new book.

I like the idea of taking those notebooks that were started, then abandoned, either excising the old, written-on pages, covering them, or merely taping them together in one big block, and giving the book new life. Perhaps it’s all part of the creative process, trying, falling, getting up again. Finding what works. Finding what doesn’t. Right now, this does, so I’m making note.

TheWriterIsOut

 

 

Typing With Wet Claws: Mostly Through March Edition

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Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. Anty and I would like to say hello to our new readers. If you are new, you may not know that I, Skye, who am a kitty, blog for my Anty on Fridays. This is partly to help her out and partly because I take my duties as a mews very seriously. That means that I have to make sure she is doing what she needs to be doing, to get books written, so that she can share them with readers.

First of all, before I am allowed to talk about anything else (though let’s be real, it is mostly Anty’s writing  that I talk about, anyway) I have to tell readers where to find Anty’s writing on the interwebs this week, other than here. If you are reading this, you are already here, and do not need directions. As always, she was at Buried Under Romance on Saturday (that is the day after I blog, if you need a temporal landmark.) This week, she talked about experienced heroines. That post is here, and it looks like this:

BURissheexperienced

There is no frame around that picture, because I forgot. Also, I have special paws, and it is not always easy to hit the right keys. Pretend the frame is there, and that is almost the same thing.

Next comes the part where I bring readers up to date on Anty’s Goodreads challenge. Anty’s goal is to read ninety books by the end of the year, and have at least half of those be historical romance. Historical fiction with strong romantic elements also counts. As of this morning, Anty has read nineteen out of ninety books, which puts her at twenty-one percent of the way to her goal, and one book behind schedule. It is the weekend, though, so there is time to get back on track. I will also point out that, out of the top row of Anty’s read books, four out of the five are historical romance, so good job on that.

The book Anty read and reviewed this week, is this one:

 

Anty liked this book very much, and will start on its companion book, Lady ni White, very soon. Probably later tonight, actually. Once Anty is done with her Skye-athalon (he books, not the kitty) she will then embark on a Denise Domning binge. I think I will call that “Domning-nation,” because I like coming up with names for things. It is part of my job as a mews. Unless that is already the name of Miss Denise’s fan club. Then, I would have to think of something else.

Another part of being a mews is to make sure Anty lays the proper groundwork for upcoming projects. As she will be participating in this year’s April Camp NaNo session, she has about a week to get things ready for that. In case anybody was wondering what Anty’s brainstorms about creating a whole village look like, they look pretty much like this:

Typepadscribbleoneversion

Note: work in progress

 

Anty has added a few other things to the page since this picture was taken, including shading in the letters in the word, “village,” because shading letters is a very good way for Anty to procrastinate and still say that she is actually working. We will see how that goes. So far, she has figured out there is a road to the village (always helpful, for trade and expanding the gene pool, among other things) and some houses (I am highly in favor of living inside) and some natural things, like trees and water and maybe some mountains. She is not sure about the mountains yet.

That is okay, because this is not a story about mountains. Anty has not said, yet, if there are any cats in this book, but it does take place in a village where a lot of people work in grain fields, which means grain gets stored somewhere, which means mice and rats want to eat the grain, which means the humans do not want the mice and rats to eat the grain, so that means cats. If Anty needs a mice-catching consultant, I am ready to fill that role. I think that she might, because a new mousie game was on the glowy box today, and I tried it, and I did So Good that I got head scritches. I know whereof I speak.

In other news, I think one of the reasons Anty only finished one book this week (besides that it is a big book, over five hundred pages, but Anty considers that a good thing) is that Anty discovered a storytelling game on her phone, called Choices: Stories You Play, and she has been playing that kind of a lot. It is a fun game, and many of the stories are romances, or have romances (or chances for romance) in the, but they do not count toward her reading challenge.

That is kind of unfortunate, because Anty likes them a lot, but they also do another thing. They help her with plotting this new story, because, at several points in the game stories, there is a choice that the point of view character must make, and that will change certain things about the story. Sometimes, it is big, like which human the character would like to have as their mate, or it is sometimes something seemingly small, like what clothes to wear, but or where to sit, but they do turn out to be important later. in fight scenes, there are choices to dodge, or attack, or hide (I would probably always pick hide, because I am super good at hiding. Lie super, super good, as long as I remember to tuck in my tail.) These choices remind Anty that, when she is not sure what a character should do next, think of three possible things they could do, and then pick one. Maybe she will change it later, but, for a rough draft, what is important is to keep moving forward. In that, it is like when I lead her to my dish. Keep moving toward the goal, and good things await at the end.

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

skyebyenew

see you next week

It Takes a Village, or, Anna, Creator of Worlds

annabowling 2 Comments

World-buildimg and I have a complicated relationship. For one thing, I write historical romance,. and the first genres that come to mind when many think of world-building are science fiction and/or fantasy, where one very well may have to build a literal world (or multiple worlds) from scratch, complete with alien species, advanced technology, and/or magic systems that require careful recordkeeping, with checks and balances, governmental structures, possibly changing the laws of physics, and…eep. That all sounds like a lot.

My story people live in the really real world, albeit a long time ago, but I don’t have actual historical figures (apart from a couple of brief cameos by Charles II, in Orphans in the Storm.) in on the action, an the focus is on the romance, so I often feel like I’m in the wrong room when I look at world-building resources that are created for SF/F authors. They’d probably feel equally out of place when it comes to resources geared toward romance authors (who do not write SF/F or paranormal romance) but that’s beside the point. All genres require world-building, even contemporary, which I co-write with Melva Michealian.

Right now, I’m getting my ducks in a row to create a small village, in the North of England, sometime in the eighteenth century, probably corresponding to the American Revolution, but that’s not a huge part of it, and this is not a story about the American Revolution, so, no, it is not like Hamilton, so back off with all the pressure, okay? (Oh, wait, I’m the one with the pressure. Still, back off, me.) In my workshop, Play in Your Own Sandbox, Keep All The Toys, there’s one segment called “Everybody Has to be Somewhere.”  Theoretically, that’s the part about world-building, for which I feel at once both optimistic (of course I’ve got this) and completely unqualified (please don’t ask me about magic systems, and I don’t know anything about aliens, nor have I memorized all of the Scottish clan names) but I had the world-building thing on my mind, because, well, everybody does have to be somewhere. “Hogmanay” is not a setting in itself; I have to do more.

The other thing that pushes me into slightly uncomfortable territory is that, this time, I know I’m purposely creating a story world that I will be using for more than one story. I love standalone stories the best, and they are my favorites to read and to write, but series, or at least linked books, sell better, and that feeds into the “commercial” part of “commercial fiction,” and of course the gentleman in A Moment Past Midnight (abbreviated AMPM) the heroine does not pick, is going to go :makes vague gesture: way the heck over there and find the love of his life (who is not at all like the heroine of AMPM) in another story, maybe for the second Camp NaNo of the year. Possibly. We’ll see. That’s the plan. (No, I have not figured out where, as of yet. One story at a time, okay?)

So. I need a village. I need a small village, for that small town feel (but in 18th century England) which means that the village has to be based around something. It needs an economy. Why do people live there? What are its resources? North of England is all well and good for a start, but where in the North? Coast? Inland? Mountains? Forests? What’s the water source? My story people need the same things we all do: food, water, shelter, companionship, but how do they get them? It’s winter, so it’s cold, so how do they stay warm? What do they eat? why did the heroine’s husband, a healthy, able-bodied man, leave the village, and why did heroine’s (second) betrothed, also a healthy, able-bodied man, of the same age, stay? What do the villagers need, that they don’t have, and where and how do they get it?

This doesn’t strike me as much as world-building, but as answering questions. I have a lot of questions. The village isn’t a place as much as it is the people who live there. How many of them there might be is certainly one of the considerations, but it’s the individuals that come to me the strongest. I have my leads, but who else might live there?  What are the necessary jobs, and who does them?  Right now, I know that, since it’s a small community, some of the people are better identified by bynames, rather than the names their parents wrote in the parish register.  Asking after Mary Jones, for example, might have a follow-up question of which Mary Jones one wants.  Did one mean Molly Cook, who works in the manor house kitchen, or Big Mamie, who’s taller than all the men in her family, or maybe Mary Smart, who can add any numbers in her head, without chalk or slate. Then there’s Old Mary, Baby Mary, etc.

Once I had that settled, that was when the as-yet-unnamed village clicked, and became “real.” That’s when the real work begins, and where I get to pull out the notebook that will help me make sense out of it all.

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I’ve had this pad for a few years now, and no idea what to do with it. It’s typewriter shaped, I obviously need it, but for what purpose? Today, it goes toward world-building. Write down stuff that occurs to me about the village, its inhabitants, its history, and possible future. Things are still nebulous at this point. There will be at least one poorly drawn map, with lots of erasures and revisions, and then…then it will welcome me home.

TheWriterIsOut

Fifty-Nine

annabowling 2 Comments

That’s how many pens I now carry with me on a daily basis. Fifty-nine pens. No, you may not borrow one. I probably need to keep a couple of decoy pens on hand for when the question inevitably arises. It always does. Real Life Romance Hero knows to come to me first when it comes to office supplies, before heading to Staples or Office Max. He knows well enough not to ask, “do you have an X?” but “do you have a spare X?” Smart man. For those wondering if this is a post about pens, the answer is: partly.

To give some context, this is the latest addition to my daily carry:

01pencasecover

 

The first time I saw it, I thought it was a planner. Easy mistake. It was in with a bunch of planners, the only pen case of its kind in the entire display. It even had a bunch of assorted gel pens already inside, in case the rows of pink elastic loops inside were not indicator enough. Three compartments. Ten loops on each side of each compartment. I did some quick math. If I played my cards right, I could carry sixty pens with me, every single day. Um, yes, please. Sixty pens, literally wrapped in motivational soundbytes? Double yes, please. Triple yes, please, because it coordinates with Big Pink.

Immediately, my mind swam. Sixty pens, yes, but what sixty pens? That’s the important question. Pencils? No, not in here. I love the pale pink interior too much. Pencil smudges would be a distraction. Pens, then. Also highlighters. Ooh. I have that set of pastel highlighters that has been, so far, hiding in a pouch, along with some fineliners. The workhorse pens, the ones I reach for the most, those could go in there, too, but what about the rest of the spaces?

01pencaseworkhorse

There were a lot of attempts at filling those slots before I finally figured out that the highlighters were more substantial than regular pens, and an empty loop is not going to be the end of the world. Originally, the highlighters and workhorse pens were going to be on the side where the Stabilo fineliners (yellow barrels and colorful caps) now sit, because it took me a while to decide what had to go where.

Not what I wanted to go where; there’s a difference. My initial idea was that all twenty slots in the first compartment would be for workhorse pens/highlighters, the second for a set of markers, and the third would be my special pens that people who are not me better not even think about borrowing. The problem there was that I do not have twenty workhorse pens/highlighters. I’m not using bright highlighters right now, and I very rarely use ballpoints. (Purple Hannah Howell promo9tional pen, excepted) and I like to have pens next to each other look like they belong together.

The markers were the easy part. I had twenty Crayola Supertips, and twenty spaces in each compartment. Bam. Not too difficult at all.

01pencasecrayola

(Mostly) rainbow order, like with like, as my mother would say (that phrase drove me bonkers when I was a kiddo, but I now see its use) and everything where I need it. This is a color coder’s dream. Never mind that I had to move everything over into the third compartment a few minutes later.

Part of that was because A) I didn’t want to carry twenty of my favorite pens around where anything could happen to them, and B) I counted my Stabilo fineliners, sitting next to my desk, in their original packaging, which I love, but rarely use (the pens, not the packaging, though that, too.) There are thirty of them. Hm. If I moved a few things around, I could have thirty spaces available, and then I could have them with me, literally all the time.  Cue image of me shuffling pens around (also of dropping package of fineliners between chair and wall, then crawling around, searching for them, and counting to make sure they’re all there) and then slipping thirty pens into thirty slots.

01pencasestabilo

“Um, Anna,” I hear some of you saying, “this post is literally all about pens. Or pen cases. Kind of a niche. That stationery blog might be something to think about, mkay?” I hear you, and I get it. Thing is, getting these pens in order, while simultaneously gearing up for Camp NaNo helped me notice that organizing writing implements and organizing writing have more than a few things in common.

What’s most important to me? What do I want to carry with me on a daily basis? Does it all flow together in a way that feels comfortable to navigate? Does what I want to fit in this space, actually fit in this space? Exactly what do I need to accomplish what I want to accomplish? Do I know how I want to use what I already have? Do I need anything that I do not currently have, and, if so, how and when do I intend to obtain it?

This case is for pens, and pens only (I count markers as pens.) I also love pencils, but those go in pencil cases, not a pen case. I also love sticky notes, but there’s no place for sticky notes in this case. No place for gummi bears, either,  no matter how much I love them, so stuffing them in there would make no sense (and result in gross pen case and potentially inedible gummi bears; nobody wants that.) Maybe this is merely an excuse for me to play with  art/office supplies, but maybe it’s more than that. Maybe it’s all part of getting closer to being the writer I want to be.