A New Chapter... Looking forward and... back...?

Well a new chapter has been opened.  An old one is closing.  Paper Dreams has had a good run.  It has been sent to over 50 agents and has received 7 requests total.  Out of those requests, I've actually received some promising feedback including:

Hi, Eleah--

Thank you so much for sharing this with me. I'm so engaged by the really original premise behind your story. Unfortunately, fantasy really isn't my sub-genre, so, though I try to give it a chance, I rarely end up moving much further into the process with fantasy stories. Furthermore, as I'm not much of a fantasy reader, I do have reservations whether I know the market enough to do real justice to prospective clients. This is a very long way of saying I really liked your excerpt, but I don't see it being a strong fit for me, ultimately. I would encourage you to query other agencies, however, and possibly my colleague _________, who is a fantasy fan. Thank you again and best of luck!

Another agent wouldn't take on the project, but told me:

Hi Eleah,

No worries -- it was more so that the market is tough right now for fantasy and steampunk. Unless it's a crazy stand-out never seen before concept, it's just too difficult in this saturated market.

if you've queried widely with no bites, just keep on writing. Don't give up!

and lastly an agent who actually took the time to go through my book itself!  Who gave me three tips specifically to amp up my writing and also told me:

you have a great attitude by the way,  I like you and your story.

All this to say that, Paper Dreams has had a great run and I've learned a lot from the agents who actually took the time to give me some thoughtful feedback, a task that is not easy in their field given the amount of queries they have to read along with the fact that they have a ton of work to do for their current clients.  I've gained some perspective on the craft of writing, and while, being admittedly disappointed that this isn't the book to launch my "career", I am learning to look at this in a more positive light.  While this might not be my debut novel, it is not as though it won't ever see the light of day.  Who knows?  Maybe the next book will sell and my agent will ask me, "Do you have anything else to pitch to me?"  A Boom!  There goes Paper Dreams.

And even if that doesn't happen and this book never sells, I will have all the valuable experience I gained from it.  The feedback I've received from agents tells me I am on the right track.  That while I may need more practice, or maybe just the right time-place connection, on the overall, I am moving steadily toward publication.

The only difference between professional and amateur writers is that professional ones did not give up. Neither will I.

So now that this chapter is closed, it is time to open a new one.  Time to look forward, and, oddly enough, back.  My new book is a historical fantasy!  I am really excited about the premise because I am returning to a very old story with characters I absolutely adore but finally finding the right home for them this time around, which happens to be 14th century France primarily during the Avignon papacy.  I expect that given the nature of the story and the characters, it will travel around a bit... maybe even to the Holy Land or England, but we'll see where my research takes me.  And because fantasy is always near and dear to my heart, and I believe there is always more going on behind the scenes than our natural eyes can see, there will be a fantasy aspect included.  Which is what I am super excited about.

What a curious and special feeling to be going full circle to a story that began formulating in my mind over 10 years ago...  I just needed enough time to stop hitting my head against a wall and realize there was a way to make all the pieces come together in a whole new way.

So back to the planning, daydreaming, creation stages that are so much fun.  Research will be a whole new portion of this process as I've never undertaken a historical piece before.  Alright, I did once in highschool and I still blush looking back on how anachronistic it was.

Wish me luck as I embark on this new chapter!  More to come.

My Mommy Told Me to NEVER GIVE UP!

So it's one of those days... or yesterday was.  Yesterday I heard back from an agent I'd really, really wanted to rep my book--a no.  Was I ever bummed.  I was in the car driving and thinking:  That's it.  I don't want to do this anymore.  I give up.  Writing is too hard.  It's impossible.  Those people getting book contracts must be bribing agents... or something!

As I was saying "I give up", somewhere in the back of my mind, that irritating, irrational part of myself was saying, "Ha.  No, you don't."

Sample Conversation:

Me: "Uh, yes, I do."
Other Me: "No.  You can't."
Me: "Why not? I can do whatever I want!"
Other Me: "Because even if you put your paper and pen away, your laptop, your writing books and file ideas, you'll wake up in the middle of the night somewhere down the road--3 months, 1 year, 5 years--and you'll need to write down whatever crazy idea jumped into your head."
*Long, Grudging Pause*
Me: "Maybe not..."
Other Me: "Yes... yes you will.  Because you love this.  As hard as it is, as unrewarding, as embarrassing--I mean, who actually says their day job is writer? (ok, and Mom, too--less embarrassing), as painful and as frustrating as it is to write a book, you have to do this."
Me: "Why?"
Other Me: "Because it's what you think about, what you dream about, what you wonder about... because pictures and snippets of words, movies, postcards, jewelry, virtually anything you can see, touch, taste or imagine, wakes up your brain.  Puts an idea there.  Makes you want to explore, elaborate..."
*Another Long, Grudging Pause*
Me: "Well, damn."

And if you're reading this thinking, "She talks to herself?", well, then, maybe that's another sign too.

So moving forward....

After ice cream and much consoling from my hubby, I went to bed and woke up this morning and got...

You guessed it...

Another Rejection!  (From the first agent who requested to see my book).  However, she was really kind.  She said it didn't fit her list, but there were parts of it she loved.  It was a far more personal rejection--which agents do not generally have time to give.

And then less than 2 hours later, when I didn't think I could take any more bad news, I got...

Another Request!  (For a total of 6). 

And from an agent I queried yesterday.  Just yesterday.  It included the first 10 pages of the manuscript which means she had a writing sample of the actual book to start and wanted more, a very good sign.  It means that she was hooked not only by the query but my writing as well.  I think sometimes the query letter is a very misleading tool.  The agent sees the query, wants the book, but something in the pages doesn't fit the tone or the story they were imagining.  Or they're just not grabbed because they can't see the follow-through of the query to the whole novel.  So when they've seen a sample and want more, that's when I get excited.  It means the piece resonated with them. 

At any rate, when I read agent blogs and see that they request maybe maybe 5% of the total queries they receive, I feel pretty good that something is working.  Even if an offer doesn't come, I feel I'm consistently improving as a writer.  So I'll keep doing this, keep working.  Because I love it.  And because my Mommy told me to "NEVER GIVE UP!"

Love at First Sight

The first draft is a nightmare.  It is a complete wreck.  It is riddled with plot holes, inconsistent characters, unnecessary information and a whole lot of other big issues.

But regardless of these things--and I can't speak for all writers--the first draft is also Love At First Sight. 

I don't see the fact that he's going to leave his dirty work socks on the floor, or that I may need to nag him to death to take out the garbage, or that he might chew his food with his mouth open.  Incidentally, only the first one of those traits/habits is exhibited by my own husband.  But Love at First Sight takes none of those things into account.  And in that way, the First Draft is a lot like falling in love.

For me, it is the place of unlimited possibilities.  It is the place where the rush of writing comes to the surface.  If I get stumped on a scene or it's not working out, I sit back and figure out why.  I mull it over until I can think of how to make that scene interesting, or how I can fit the puzzle piece together properly.  But while all of that is going on, there is this wonderful feeling of freedom.

At least with the new book there is.  And, I'm find a few people who are willing/capable of helping me figure out all the "science-y" stuff that I need for it.  To help me fix those plot holes that I am busily covering up with generic terms to get me from Point A to Point B.

Will there be a lot of rewriting?

Heck yes.

Does that bother me?

Not in the least.

I am enjoying the process.  Finding out about the story and the characters.  It is coming along so quickly and nicely that I'm already sitting around 13k words and I only really started the book about 3 weeks ago.  *Checks the creation date*  Ah, I started it July 31.  Nearly 3 weeks.  And it is so much fun. 

I'm sure I'll be singing a different tune come rewrites, but for now, I'll just take the time to admire the way his eyes sparkle, and how resonant his voice is, and how much I like the smell of his cologne.  I'll focus on the dirty socks later.

In Query Limbo... and the Passion in My Bones.

Argh.  I really am awful at this.  Consistency.  Well, at least not where the writing is concerned.  I guess I'd rather produce more novel-wise than blog-wise at any rate, but still!

Okay updates:

I am querying Paper Dreams currently and I have 4 agents who are reading either fulls (2) or partials (2).  One of those agents was speaking with me back and forth over a series of emails rather candidly and making recommendations to improve the book.  She also told me outright that she liked me and my story.  So that was a major "woohoo" moment for me.  I did the suggested revisions she asked for on the first 3 chapters and sent them back to her.  More waiting.  Such is the profession.

One of those fulls was requested a month ago as of Wednesday.  Which means I should hear yay or nay in the next month likely.  It is very difficult to be patient, but the fact that I have so many bites makes me feel very validated.  It is such an amazing feeling to have someone who works in the industry, who makes their living from it, actually take your work seriously.  To request more of it, to speak candidly with you about it.  It feels like I'm doing something right--like I'm on the right path and if I just keep working at it, sometime, sooner or later, something will give.  I will see my name on the spine of a real live (yes, I know they're inanimate objects) book.  Maybe even get to see it on a shelf somewhere or a pretty display stand.

This is part of the reason I shudder at the prospect of self-publishing.  Not because some people haven't been very resourceful and fortunate, doing remarkably well.  Many have.  Not because I'm lazy and would rather the publisher do all the formatting.  No, I do not want to self-pub because something in me tells me that it's like admitting defeat.  That if I self-publish, it is because I couldn't work hard enough or commit long enough to really refining, pushing, stretching, revising and all out improving my book enough to get someone professional in the industry to believe in it.

Sometimes it's difficult because most people do not consider writing (unless maybe journalism?) to be a worthwhile pursuit and certainly not a viable career.  I still have trouble thinking of myself as an "author".  It just sounds so professional and successful.  Writer is that comfortable zone where I can pretend it's something I dabble with, not something I hope to make a career out of.  And maybe it isn't viable--maybe I'll never make enough money off it to live like a person doing a "normal" job could.  But what I will accomplish is a knowledge that I followed the passion in my bones.

At the end of the day, when I've written a scene I like, or I meet a new character in my head that fascinates me, or I find a way to explore a theme near and dear to my heart, I feel a high like no other.  I feel like I'm floating, like I'm bubbling up and spilling over with nothing but good wishes and joy to share with the rest of humanity.  In short, I feel like I'm accomplishing what I was made for, what I was created for--to find a turn of phrase or mirror a portion of life that actually resonates with other souls. I feel like this is what God made me to do.

When I've had a hard day--relationships rocky all around me, or the dinos banging pots and pans and spilling juice all over the floor, or I've just worked myself into exhaustion physically--I turn to my laptop, fire up my current WIP, and let myself daydream.  I let people and places and fantasy speak to me.  The everyday melts away in the face of the fantastical, in the interactive movie that I myself am creating to suit my favorite subjects.  It is a wonderful experience.

The marketing side of it isn't always so glamorous, but it is important, and rather interesting.  I told my husband more than once that if I hadn't fallen so madly in love with him and had 2 beautiful children, I would have whisked myself off to New York city to become an agent or editor.  I love the whole process of books that much.  From the idea, to the draft, to the query, to the agent's pitch, to the physical (and now digital) page of a real, finished book.  All of it is just part of something I love.

In other news, my dinos are becoming quite reliant on getting their naptime/bedtime stories.  I see them picking up books all the time and my heart does flip flops.  I pray that I can still a love of the written word in them, that they'll discover and daydream, learn and question, criticize and wonder all about the thing they'll read on the page.

That is a very worthwhile legacy to pass down to them, if nothing else.

But a part of me still wants to see them curled up on the couch one wintery afternoon, sipping tea, and choosing to read one of my YA novels instead of going to the mall with their friends.  That would feel incredible.

And the plot... does not thicken?

So as I mentioned in my last post, plotting Book 2 could have a post all of its own.  And so here it is.  Actually I am doing more than plotting Book 2 currently; I am trying to plot out the remaining 3 books in the series.  This is not an easy feat.  I'm much more of a fly by the seat of your pants kind of writer, but I want to spend less time rewriting on Book 2 than I did on the first one.  (Edit: I want to spend less time having to rewrite entirely pointless scenes because they did nothing to attach to the overall plot.)  I want my scenes to convey all that they need to from the start.  Then when I rewrite I can spend time fixing issues like tone, voice, continuity errors, unnecessary description or details, structure etc. rather than restructuring an entire plot.

At any rate, the reason the plot does not thicken is because... *big sigh* ... there's a lot to figure out.  I am working with the overall story arc of the series rather than just Book 2.

Book 1: Is about the MC falling into a fantasy world (Melodia) that she drew, learning the rules and rhythms of that world, learning that she is in a lot of hot water and that people either want to use her powers or kill her (in a nutshell).  The plot is happily resolved at the end.  The bad guy vanquished by the quick thinking heroine and said heroine has finally gone through some badly needed emotional growth spurts.

Book 2: Is mainly about the plot thickening in the world of Melodia, power centers shifting, a political and social change that compares to the French Revolution, and ultimately the big baddie who we're not entirely sure is the big baddie becoming the supreme leader.  The MC also goes into labor at the end and we're left on a cliffhanger of sorts.  But it's all good!  Because we know everything is going to be alright, right?  Right?

Book 3: Is mainly about the MC returning to a normal life on Earth for a while.  Unfortunately, Melodia being the pushy place that it is, is not content for her to just go on about her business.  It barges back into her life in a big way and forces her by the end of the novel to go back for the final show down in book 4.

Book 4: Is mainly about a serious butt-kicking finale.  Big baddie has finally lost all semblance of innocence, his manipulative machinations are revealed and it's time for the MC (and friends) to do something about it.  Unfortunately, he's had a lot of time to consolidate and to turn Melodia inside-out while the MC has been busy on Earth.


So I have a general arc.  It's the fine print, the details, that are still fuzzy.  I didn't realize how important knowing the WHOLE story was until I sat down to plot Book 2 and thanked my lucky stars that I had not yet sent Book 1 off.  There was so much that needed to be added in.  So many seeds and ideas to be organically inserted so that Book 2 could be a natural progression.  I know often times, authors end up writing a sequel to a stand alone novel.  And while Book 1 can be read on it's own with a satisfying conclusion, there are unanswered questions that can only be found by reading the following books.

It had me traveling to Walmart late last night in search of materials to help me keep my details straight.  This is what I ended up with:

 

And that is only after about an hour of filling up notes.  There's a lot more to go on that board, but it helps having some nifty tools to help me keep my facts straight.  My next big project while I'm waiting on the last few pages to come in from my copy editor is to start outlining (in details *cringe*) Books 2-4.  I need something to work on when the submitting/querying begins and I hope to start writing Book 2 by the that time.  

Anyhow, the dinos are up from their naps and the sun is shining.  Reluctantly, I will put down my laptop and emerge into the real world.  Boo.  Melodia is so much more interesting...

Clean Up Aisle 3

What I'm listening to: "Lost in Paradise" by Evanescence


So here I am, a month later?  Almost two.... eeks, it's amazing how time slips away!  In all fairness, my personal life has been CRAZY lately.  With a sickness in the family, graduating university, and loads of personal stress.  However, good things have been happening too.  My dinos are growing like weeds.  My raptor (son) will be 3 in a month and I am shaking my head, wondering how the heck that happened.  It won't be long before he's off to kindergarten and since that boy is seriously smart as a whip, I know he'll do fine.  It will be a tearful day when he goes, but at the same time, I am really looking forward to having a normal writing schedule in the future.

I read a really amazing blog post yesterday on how to increase your productivity as a writer.  It is by author, Rachel Aaron.  It will have you writing crazy fast like a cheetah!  It's something I want to employ once I have a bit more free time (ha!).

Actually what I really like about it and want to use right away is the concept of tracking.  This author marks down what time she sits down at the computer every single day and what time she finishes her session at.  She marks down how many words she accomplishes in that time, even figuring out how many words per hour she writes.  From this she has been able to extrapolate when her best writing times are, when she's most productive, and more importantly, why.  Is it because she worked away from home/distractions?  Because she got to that candy bar scene?  The one she'd been waiting to write since the novel was conceived?

It's an interesting read at any rate.

Onto the writing news.  So since last time we talked, I finally have a working title for the book.  Yay!  This was stumping me and up 'til now I was only referring to it by the name of the world.  So that's a good thing.  I also have a query letter and 2 page synopsis.  I do not have the longer more in-depth synopsis worked out because I am not sure just yet how many agents will want that.  The tricky thing about synopses is that pretty much everyone (editors, pub houses and agents) have different lengths.  I've read everything from, it should be a 1 page quick synopsis, to 2 pages, to 5, to one page for every chapter.  So I'm going to just play that one by ear when I get a specific request.

As for the novel itself, the last 100 or so pages are going through copy editing at the moment (I have a wonderful friend who took on that monumental task).  She marks up the pages for me and then I go over her comments and make my own additions.  It's funny because she'll cut part of a sentence as being a bit too wordy or unnecessary description.  I'll read the sentence over and decide it's unnecessary altogether.  And thus from this simple process, we have eliminated over 5k words already, which is excellent because a YA novel should really be less than then the 95k beast I started with.

Oh, wow, I just remembered something in writing this that I completely left out in the last 50 pages of the book!  There's a minor character who shows up near the end who is not significantly important for the end of the book but becomes so in Book 2.  And that character disappears.  Not as a plot device.  But because I totally forgot about her.  *Shakes head*

So as you can see, the revisions are not quite complete yet, which is not an awful thing because I want to make sure I've laid my ground work for the continuation of the series (I'm pretty sure its four books at this point, but that could change).  I'll be continuing the edits on Book 1 while I am plotting Book 2.

Plotting Book 2 has been interesting so far but that is a whole different post.  Suffice to say that works on Book 1 is drawing to a close even with that last crucial edit that just popped into my head.  I give it about a month or two before I am querying with it.  The sample pages, query letter and synopsis I have in hand are all looking very polished.  Just have to bring the last 100 or so pages of the novel up to snuff and I'm set.  Amazing.

At least I'll be busy with working on Book 2 so I don't hold my breath and pass out before I hear anything back on Book 1.  I wish I could do something like write Book 2 in a single month.  Unfortunately, the realities of being a stay-at-home Mom compete with those crazy author delusions.  Between all the domestic-y stuff I need to do throughout the day, I seriously doubt I could buzz through the whole book in one month, but I may yet try.

Well, that is all for now.  My dinos are waking, sqwuaking from their cages--er playpens--and require fresh meat (aka cheerios and banana).  Have a glorious friday all!

Don't you... forget about me... *sings*

Okay, I know I'm lame.  Here goes...

Dear Blog:

No, I didn't forget about you.  Actually, I have been writing this blog post in my head for the last 2 or 3 days but rather than pull you up and get down to business, I have been working on a far more important project.  The dreaded re-write!  Except it hasn't been as dreaded as I thought it would be.

Big changes, though.  One villain, for instance now gets to die at the end of the novel, which is kind of amusing since I haven't even reached the end yet in the edits.  Another villain actually undergoes a sex change and becomes a woman.

Plots are thickening, the stakes are getting higher, characters becoming meaner and more involved and complicated.  And all around becoming better defined.  It is interesting when a character you have formerly loved becomes somewhat of a jerk.  You wonder if the reader will see through their bluster and still love them as much as you do.  Or if they will be duped by their bad boy, hard exterior and dislike them.

I am enjoying the re-write surprisingly.  It's like watching a movie you loved and then finding ways to improve it.  There are definitely moments when I cringe and think, "I cannot believe I wrote that" or "I cannot believe that character said that!" and I get out my trusty pen and scribble through it like those mere black lines will erase the fact that I ever put something so lame on the page.  But those moments are rare comparitively with the ones where I think, "Sweet, this is great.  If I just tweak this or that, it'll be even MORE intense!"

So if I am not around for a while, it is not because I haven't had interesting observations or experiences with the re-write process.  Actually, it's more like that this is exactly why I haven't had time to update here.

Victory, Brooding and Disillusionment

Forgive tonight's odd ramblings.  They have less to do with writing and life in general and more to do with the strange mood I find myself in.  I think we writers as a whole are an eccentric breed.  I definitely wouldn't be so arrogant or so bold as to overgeneralize and say that we feel things deeper than other people; that just would not be true.  But I think to some extent, maybe we process things longer, or lament about them more, or simply brood.  That must be it: we're brooders.  Which happens to be exactly what I am doing right now.

In Novel News--I am finished Draft One of my YA work-in-progress.  It is currently marinating.  Sort of.  I've had a few readers and so far I am getting really positive results (which, as I trust these people's opinions, I hope are not simply to praise me, but because they actually enjoyed the piece overall).  I know that publishers are a whole other kettle of fish but I am not ready to start delving into the mindset of perfecting query letters or a synopsis just yet.  I am not even ready to go and pick up a handy-dandy Writer's Market guide yet to see who out there exactly would even look twice at my manuscript--that feels odd calling it that rather than just my book.  Somehow it makes it more credible.  To tell someone, "Yes, I have just finished writing my manuscript and I am about to start sending it off to publishers" just sounds more credible than "I wrote a book."  Especially when it seems like just about anyone can write a book nowadays if they have enough motivation to sit in front of a computer that long.  It's the publishing that is hard.

Actually, that reminds me of another thought that is buzzing around my head lately (I'll get back to the brooding one momentarily, forgive the detour).  So as to the book vs manuscript... in the last few days I have recently had the privilege of telling various people that I either want to be a full time writer or that I have finished writing a book--or both.  Most people look fascinated and smile and ask all sorts of encouraging questions. But underneath it, I cannot help but wonder if this has the same overall effect as telling someone that you want to be an actor.  Most people smile and nod and telling you interesting or courageous you are but underneath it all, it feels like they are just thinking, "Really?  Why don't you pick a job you can actually make money at?  Or actually have any shot of success at?"  Because let's face it, in the entertainment industry--of which books are a part--there are so few people that actually 'make it'.  So I always feel oddly self-conscious when I tell people that I am a writer or that I have written a book, like I have said something ridiculous that they should be patting me consolingly on the back for.

Anyway, back to the brooding thing.  So, I am brooding tonight.  Even though it is getting to be later now, when I first started brooding was about an hour and a half ago when the hubby went to bed early and the two dinos were also down.  The house was surprisingly quiet--eerie almost--and I was drowning my sorrows on the Xbox. 

At any rate, I sat there and suddenly felt incredibly lonely.  I have to admit that since I have had the big push to finish the book, I haven't been in the right headspace to communicate the way I normally do with the hubby.  Most of the time when I am in the 'zone' it is one of a handful of phrases: "Yes, sweetie.  Okay.  No.  Thanks.  Go away, I'm writing.  Talk to you later."  He's lucky to get more than six consecutive words out of me.  Normally, we have a really deep bond; somehow he managed to immerse himself in the crazy worlds, characters and places that I am developing.  But recently I haven't had any creative energy to expend on anything but getting the book done and taking care of two recently sick dinos.  I feel lost and disconnected--even though I have finished the book. 

I read once somewhere that the spouses of writers are a brave lot to be able to patiently endure the 'fever' that seems to take hold of us.  Nights of typing away, days of being overtired as a result, flights of fancy, sporadic fits of agitation or tears or joy.  We are a mixed bag.  Sometimes we're feeling things that aren't even our own emotions.  Sometimes we're frustrated with our writer's block.  Sometimes we're overjoyed that we finally finished something.  But usually, less than 5 minutes later, we're ready to rip it apart.  We are our own worst enemies 90% of the time. Makes for a difficult position for the spouse.  And most of the time, he's braved the rapids of my journey with surprisingly good resiliency; I have to say that my husband is probably one of the most even keel people I have ever met.  And he has been lately too, but it is me that doesn't seem to be bouncing back entirely fast enough.  Maybe I am having trouble because I know the book is not really done.  I will take this as a sign of maturing as a writer because every other time I finished a book before I was all ready to send it off and thinking the work was over.  Now I am aware that the second pass over it might take longer than the first--hopefully not.

Either way, I feel a little like a soldier coming home from a war and surveying all the neat little houses on his street and wondering where the heck he fits in after the strange and alien landscape he's been in all this time.  Disillusioned--lucky enough to be victorious (I did finish the book after all), but sort of lost as to where I fit in now.  I am hoping it is just a phase, just a temporary clash of emotions, because I would really hate for it to be a downward slump.  Those are so hard to get out of.

On a somewhat positive note, I have to say that within 15 minutes of feeling like this, I was like, "I need to write." But I told myself I was not allowed to touch the First Draft yet.  And rather than digging up a new novel project or starting Book 2, I decided to blog.  Either way though, I am pleased and a little disturbed I guess, that these feelings of melancholy lead me right back to the thing that brings them on.  For this, I find that writing is ingrained in me like a sliver that won't come out.  Sometimes its filled with pain, a lot of the time it is filled with an indescribable joy as I watch my fingers fly across the keyboard and the words pour forth like a river. 

As Rainer Maria Rilke wrote in February 1903:

This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple “I must,” then build your life in accordance with this necessity; your while life, even into its humblest and most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse.

http://peterjukes.wordpress.com/rilke-must-i-write/




So, too, must I write.  I just wish sometimes it was filled with the joy rather than the sorrow and brooding. Anyhow, that is all for tonight. 

Nearing The End

For those of you following, I am aware that I have not been posting with the same frequency as I did when I began, but I assure you, this is not because I have been skimping or forgetting.  It is, actually, in fact because I have been writing so much, that I simply haven't had time for extra-curricular activities (ie: blogging). 

Last night I did the last big chunk of surgery from the First Draft and finished out with a total of 68 pages (maybe 2/3 edited and reworked into the book, and 1/3 of brand new writing).  It was fantastic.  This brings me up to a total word count of 60K, and approximately 230ish pages.  The end is almost literally in sight.  Aside from a few minor detours, I can see where I am going and where I want to end up. This is very exciting.  And believe me when I say that it was difficult to force myself to go to bed last night at 1:30 a.m., even knowing that I was going to have to be up at 7 with the dinos.  I still tossed and turned for a good half hour, wishing I was downstairs clacking away on my laptop.

In other news, the dinos are doing great :)

My Raptor went to the zoo with us on Sunday and had a wonderful time.  Apparently, he had more fun trying to throw rocks in the water near the fences than actually viewing the animals.  (I'm just glad he didn't throw rocks at the lions and have us either eaten or kicked out).  My T-Rex is pretty much walking completely on her own now.  She's babbling more now and I am sure she will be talking before long.  So exciting times here at the dino farm. 

You know, that name originally comes from a game called Dinopark Tycoon that my husband played when he was younger.  One time, before we had dinos of our own, he told me that I was like his purple dinosaur.  This particular dinosaur was stupendously expensive to buy and once you had it, it would only eat room service.  It would sing for the guests and be the star attraction, but every so often it would just keel over and die, costing you a small fortune to replace it.

I'm still not sure to this day if it is a compliment or insult, but I'd be happy to live on room service.

Anyhow, that's all the news for now.  If I am not back for a week, it should be because I am nearing the final word count of the book.  I hope.

If You're Procrastinating and You Know It Clap Your Hands!

Ugh, sorry, but that song has been running through my head ALL.DAY.LONG.

I suppose I bring it on myself by singing it to my T-Rex because she now CLAPS every time.  She'll be mid-tantrum, mid-thrashing-because-I-don't-want-my-filthy-shirt-changed, and she will simply STOP and clap every time I sing it.  Epicness.  Babies get even cuter when they start doing tricks.  Among her other recent accomplishments is:  "How big are you?  Are you 'so big'?"  And upon saying 'so big' she will throw her hands up in the air like she's at a crazy punk concert just to show just how tall and menacing baby T-Rex's can be.  Also Epic.

But, in relation to my title... I am currently procrastinating.  It's 10:41, the hubby is all tucked in bed, the kids are asleep and I am at my scheduled writing time (at least for the rest of spring break--dunno what I will do once our international students are back to school and I need to start dragging my sorry hide out of bed at 7 a.m. again... oy).  So here I am, ready to write, documents open and.... I am making a blog post.

But never fear.  This is quite normal for us writers.  Procrastination is easy... but it doesn't get the job done.  Not that there's not joy in it too, but writing can sometimes be a task.  And it takes commitment when you reach a spot that's dry, or necessary--the characters simply have to get from Point A to Point B--to keep going.  Those are the times when its much easier to browse Facebook, or play a round or two of solitaire, surf for some music, or do pretty much anything else.  Read: Update blog.

 At least I am happy to report that my time has not been wasted doing only those things. In the last couple days I have made four lasagnas, gone to the pool with the dinos, and done various other 'Mom' things.  And on Sunday night I did write a whopping 21 pages.  Which was also satisfying. 

So I think I will officially end my procrastination, making my obligatory 5 page quota and crawl into the bed across from me that looks entirely too tempting. 

Note to other writers:  I find if you can get through 2-3 pages of "I don't want to write" and "This is just drivel", you hit the gold mine.  Inspiration flashes and before you know it you've written 21 pages. But man, those first 2 are so freaking hard.  Kind of like exercising.  When you think about getting your water bottle, strapping on your runners, getting your iPod, it all seems like too much effort on top of running.  But once you're out there, breathing hard and feeling all empowered, you know it was worth it. 

Time to pull on my sneakers... or pull up my bootstraps.  Whichever.

Good night all!

Vanquished by the Rest of the Week...

So, I started out with some high expectations this week.  I was going to really dig into my book.  I'd gotten through a good chunk of the copy/paste and edit sections.  Probably only another 2 or 3 left to pick out from the first draft.  But upon finishing Chapter Eight on Wednesday--which was not easy given the mood of the Dinos--I gave up.

It was more important to sit down and "build towah" with the Raptor.  So there I sat amidst a sea of mega blocks and a destructive T-Rex, while the Raptor tried unsuccessfully to steal every block his sister could get her hands on.  Meanwhile, he's given up building and I'm still making a lego tower to the sky, while he rides his bike around the island in the kitchen.  But he's smiling and happy, and really that's what it's all about, right?

Then yesterday, we went for an impromptu shopping trip with their Nana (my mom) to buy presents for their cousins' birthdays and Easter.  It was nice getting out of the house.  Trust me, as a stay-at-home-mom, these occasions are necessary.  Sometimes we make up errands, in fact, just to get out before the cabin fever drives us CrAZy!

But it is not conducive to writing.  I think part of it is procrastination since I could technically skip some relax time at the end of the night--at the risk of my sanity--to get more writing done.  But I've been holding out because as I hit Chapter Nine, I realize I have some world-building to do.  Since things have changed from Draft One, I have the freedom to do this. 

This means a shift in gears.  From writing mode to thinking mode.  Not that this is a bad thing, but lately my brain seems melted.  In fact, as I read over this post, it's very disjointed.  Could be because if I have to listen to Elmo's song ONE.MORE.TIME. I may actually asplode.

*BOOM*

That's all for now.  Hopefully, next week is more on target.  Ah, life is all about balance and it's not easy to achieve a balance between meeting my own goals, spending time with friends and family, and nurturing my Dinos.  At least I know which ones are the priorities.  Still, it leaves me looking wistfully over my shoulder at characters and stories lurking in my imagination.  See you soon, guys.  I hope.

E-Merg Book Surgery & Cupcakes

So, I'm not entirely sure who's following me here, but I haven't posted in a few days.  This is completely normal for me, by the way.  Weekends are family time and hubby time.  I try to catch up with friends, run errands, and spend quality time with loved ones.  I don't do a lot of writing--usually. 

However, as we all know, today is another dreaded Monday--except I am finding that today was filled with good things and production, not dread.

This weekend I began the arduous re-write process.  I hadn't planned on it.  As I went to bed Saturday night (around 11:30) I laid there, listening to the hubby snore.  Dinos tucked in safe--the Raptor visiting his Grammie and Papa and the T-Rex snuggled in her warm little bed.  And after rolling over for the fifth time, I figured, "To heck with this.  I'm going to get some work done."

*Roll out of bed, trip over sweater.  Swear quietly and catch myself on the dresser.  Glance around.  Snoring still coming from the bed.  Baby T-Rex still sleeping in playpen.  Breathe a sigh of relief.  Find flash-light.  Flick on.  Look for laptop.*  Aha!  *Grab laptop.  Turn off flash-light.  Leave room.  Come downstairs and open laptop.*

5% battery life.  Sonova...

*Go back upstairs.  Flick flash-light back on. Hunt for cord.*  Aha!  *Turn off flash-light.  Come back downstairs with power cord.  Nearly trip over the Raptor's favorite gween (green) and gowd (gold) motorcycles that he clearly left as a death-trap on the bottom stair.  Think to myself, "How did I miraculously miss those the first time?".  Plug in laptop.  Fire up novel.  Open brand new doc and begin the copy/paste nightmare ahead of me.*

BOOK SURGERY! 

Surprisingly, it's not difficult; at least, not as difficult as I expected it to be.  But it is time-consuming and requires concentration.  For me, it is much easier to be interrupted in the normal writing flow of a brand-new scene than while I'm trying to copy a phrase or sentence here, re-write how a character feels/thinks about this, and remember whether or not their eyes are blue or brown.

I'm getting through it--and the ideas are popping into my brain on how to make it a better book every single day.  It's keeping me awake!  Very irritating, but I do feel productive.

Oh that reminds me.  Cupcakes.  We made rainbow chip cupcakes today and lemon cake too.  So I am feeling doubly productive.  And now at nap-time, I know the T-Rex is off eating smaller mammals in her sleep, while the Raptor is busy trying and succeeding in climbing every single piece of furniture in his room.  But he's an expert now.  Maybe I should put him in the circus?  Gymnastics?  At any rate, the house is filled with the smell of lemon cake and I'm finishing this post, drinking a Coke Zero and preparing to pull up Melodia.

Actually that reminds me.  Maybe I'll leave all of you with a snippet.  Whet your appetites (I hope), so to speak:


From Chapter Three:

Smokey grey eyes considered her for a length of time before he finally said, “How about we get that coffee?”

            “How about you answer my damn question?  I don’t care how many of those weird cat dragons are…” she stopped suddenly, gasping in horror.

            His smile soured and he muttered, “Should have offered whiskey, not coffee.”  He stepped near to her as she swayed on her feet.

            “Cat dragons,” she said in a horrified voice.

            He regarded her calmly.  “Yes, Miss Sinclaire.  You’re not dreaming or crazy.  Draklines are but one of your many creations.  You made them and they’re real.”

            Savannah felt the world spinning as a myriad of images hurtled through her brain.  Her pencil crayons working feverishly over the page, caught in one of her daydreams.  Wearing her Sienna and Yellow Ochre Prismacolors practically down to nubs by the time she’d finished the lazy, sleepy cat dragon.  The world not only spun, but tilted.

            “But I drew…”

            He sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands.  “Yes, you drew them.  Just like your mother drew me.”

 - Excerpt from Melodia, written by E.M. Turkstra (2011).

Why Hearing Bad Things is Sometimes a Good Thing.

Yesterday I had a writer's date.  If you've never had one of these before, basically it entails 2 (or more) writers sitting down and talking about their work.  One of my very good friends took it upon herself to read the current WIP and give me feedback.

It's always a mixed bag in some ways.  If it wasn't so useful to the whole writing process, I'd probably call it a form of strange, gratifying torture.  Actually, I may still call it that.  I think writers are just a wee bit masochistic.

When I was a young writer (not that I'm old now--perhaps I should say an immature writer), I took criticism like it was literally a stab to my heart.  Seven years ago, I'd give my work away with baited breath and pray that when it came back, it would not be marked up with notes, but with smiley faces and "fantastic!" smeared all over the page.

That meant I was good at it, right?  That I could spin out novel after novel and get published, right?  Imagine my surprise when I found this was not the case.  (I have a box-full somewhere of about 50 or so rejection slips from major publishing houses and agents when I naively thought that all one had to do was write the book and send it off.  Little did I know the truly staggering amount of work that happens after the first draft of the book).

I nearly gave up.  What was the point?  This was hard.  Maybe I was just not very good?  But the words still came--in the park, in the middle of the night, hanging out with friends.  Ideas and scenes and character still kept speaking to me.  So I wrote in secret, believing all the while that I was really just terrible at it.  Kind of like self-flagellation. I don't know why I did it when all it did was hurt me.  But, I am not one to wallow and once I decided that this was what I really wanted, I resolved to get better.  Let me tell you, if you happen to be an aspiring writer--the only way to get better is to keep on writing.

So I began taking writing courses and my writing got better.  I began getting my pieces back from other immature writers--mostly, who just needed an easy English credit--and they'd tell me things like, "Fantastic!", "Great job!", "Can't wait to read the next chapter".  You'd think I would be stoked, right?

Wrong!

The more pages devoid of truly useful comments I got back, the more I groaned and complained.  This doesn't tell me anything, I would mutter.  How do I know if this character is really working?  If they're believable?  Or if that plot twist actually makes sense?  Is this scene kind of superfluous?  Does it actually lend anything to the story overall?  Or could I cut it with little to no impact on the whole piece?

So yesterday, when my friend came back to me with comments, I had my momentary knee-jerk reaction of: "Oh crap, this is going to be a lot of work, a lot of re-writing.  Throw out whole chunks, they're not even salvageable if these characters suddenly like each other, or that character isn't even there for these four chapters".


Then, as the smoke cleared and I thought about it, I began to realize how much better this would make my book.  I realized this while we sat drinking tea, surrounded by clipboard, paper, and laptops at my dining room table.  The same one the Raptor drew on.  All the while he was being chased by his much more clumsy, but very determined T-Rex of a sister and the two of them were making a racket worthy of pots-banging on New Years' Eve just after midnight.  (Again, I'll say the editor in question here is a very, very good friend of mine to not only put up with, but be able to work in, this sort of atmosphere.)

So where am I now?

I have one more set of criticisms to discuss with another very well trusted friend before I begn the arduous re-write.  Most of the time I'd say don't re-write til you finish the whole thing, but because this will literally change the face of the novel, it must be done in this case.  For now, I will curl up on the couch with my Kindle, read something utterly unrelated to what I'm writing, and let the ideas percolate in the back of my head.

I think the moral of my post today is: Sometimes hearing bad things is actually a good thing.  When people criticise us (if they're not just waaaaay off base) it can make us think about things we normally don't, make us change... make us better.  I think better--whether it is a better writer, better mom, better friend or just human being--is always a good thing.

Surprise Twists! In Story and Otherwise.

So last night the hubby and I went for a drive.  I must say that he's instrumental for me in the writing process.  Usually it goes something like this:

Me: I need [digs for example...] um, I need to figure out what I want to do with this villain here.  I don't like the BIG BAD EVIL OVERLORD type.  I want this one to be more... crafty.... or something.

Him: How about [insert really awful idea here]?

Me: *Long pause.  Usually accompanied by much inward snorting.  Perhaps laughing.  Scoffing*.  Ha.  No.

Him: Okay.... what about [insert slightly more plausible thought here]?

Me: Um, no.

*Drive in silence, eating ice cream or sipping Tim Hortons.  Wheels in my head turning.*

Me: Although... what if... [insert modified husband's thought, tailored to fit my world and plot/character/concept needs]?

Him: Yeah.... that could work.  Did you think about... [insert potential problems]?

Me: Damnit.  No.  Oh wait... If I adjust...

* * *

Such was an example of last night.  He is my greatest support and the best sounding board I could have.  Always rooting for me, he never outright shoots my crazy ideas, but doesn't have any qualms about pointing out the pitfalls.  Then, he actually helps to try and find ways around them if I really have my heart set on that course.  

Last night we did that for my current YA WIP (Young Adult Work in Progress).  

I had just endured a long day of a teething 14 month old T-Rex (and believe me, dinos are grumpy when they are growing their razor-sharp, natural defense systems).  I had also endured a very creative Raptor who decided to draw with felt pen (kind of washable?) all over my beautiful oak dining table.  I can only be glad it was with a brown felt and kind of blends in.  Apparently the paper I gave him was just not nearly as fun as drawing on the table when I turned my back for just a few minutes.  At any rate, while surviving dino gymnastics--typical, but still exhausting--I also had managed to write a brief summary (5 pages) of my plot so far in the current novel.

By the time the hubby got home and picked us up to go and pick up a bike trailer for the dinos that we found on craigslist, I was in no mood for our brainstorming date.  By the way those bike trailers look like funny little viewing pens for animals--perfect for dinos about town.  So anyhow, the hubby asks me, "Are you ready to talk about Melodia [name of imaginary world from novel]?"

Me: *SNARL, GROWL, SNARL.*  No.

Him: Oooookay.  

After much driving and loud music, dino bedtime and relaxing, the hubby pulls a curve ball, makes a suggestion about Melodia and knocks me OFF.MY.FEET.  What a twist!  A cliffhanger ending?  Suspense?  Fascinating and disturbing surprises?  I love it!  The villain taking the confused, terrified and desperate heroine under his wing?  The hero leaving, dejected--knowing there was no way to change her mind and that there were other threats even greater than the Big Bad Guy that he must go take care of while leaving here there?  Ooohh.  Chills.  

Suddenly, the book I was ready to toss across the wall (figuratively because I did not want to lose my laptop), I am totally fired up and ready to write about... at 10:30 p.m.  Thanks, honey.  

No, seriously.  Thanks.

Endurance, Sprinting and Dino-Farms...

The longer I write, the more I come to realize that writing is like running a marathon in a lot of ways.  I've heard a lot of analogies about writing, including that writing is like giving birth (you carry your book for a long time and eventually, it pops out fully formed and wonderful--Ha!).  I can see some similarities in that analogy, but really, giving birth happens whether or not you are ready, whether or not you've consciously formed your baby.

Books do not.  They require a lot of work.  I find that I am like a sprinter when I write.  I go in spurts.  I have moment of utter inspiration and I write pages and pages.  And then I have blocks as I am sure most other writer's do too.  The trick, I think, is to transform yourself into a marathon runner if at all possible.  To form an endurance, which is what I am currently working on as I sit here with my laptop, surrounded by paper and pencil crayons that my 2.5 year old has chaotically scattered everywhere. 

Lovingly nicknamed "the Raptor" from birth--due to his odd, high-screeched chirping noises--which let me tell you, have not disappeared over the years, this child is chaos incarnate.  And he puts dents in my writing schedule, right along with his little sister (14 months), lovingly nicknamed the mini T-rex, after her mother, due to our short arms.  Apparently... Don't ask. 

The point is, the schedule is not easy to keep to, regardless of what your commitments are.  I am in the middle of an all-consuming YA novel that is keeping me up at night, filling my waking thoughts and slipping into my dreams.  The kind of story that just needs to be told.  But things at the Dino-Farm do not make it easy.  Maybe having somewhere to air my thoughts will help... but be prepared for much craziness should you choose to follow along.  And hopefully some amusement.

Think of me like a terrible girlfriend:  I can't promise to always be around--returning phone calls and remembering our dates (read: consistent), I can't promise to write long, eloquent love letters (read: profound articulate posts)  or even that I won't be a split-personality crazy person (read: emotional rollercoaster).  Now, if I haven't lost you yet, what I can promise (hopefully), is to entertain you with some of the details of my everyday process as I write.  That in between the craziness, the sorrow and the triumph that is a writer's existence, you will find glimpses of humor and inspiration.


I invite you to run the marathon with me--or just cheer me along from the sidelines.  Or even throw popcorn at me.  Just no lego.  Those damned things are sharp, especially when you step on them, and usually sticky since the Raptor's favorite pastime is spitting juice from the sippy cup into them.  Fun times.