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Archive for September, 2011

So! When was the last time you found me unable to answer a question? Try a couple of hours ago. The question actually made my head bounce back. I’ll just shorten the question.

What is the title of your book?

Huh? You wanna’ know what?

((That whapped me harder than “where’s your fan page” did last week. And that one hit me a second time THIS week.))

I don’t have a title. I mean, I do, but I don’t. Well, I do now! Once you spit it out, it’s done. I had been hesitating to put a name to it because once you name a thing, you give that thing power. I spit it out.

An Ordinary World.

That’s all Lien’s ever wanted, it’s what he’s looking for. Whether he finds it or not…. *shrug*…. read the last chapter and get back to me. Oh, you can’t. *smack da’ forehead* it’s a WIP!

And THAT would be why I don’t have a fan page. I haven’t done anything to warrant one. The WIP is a WIP is a WIP and this blog is mainly my foul-mouthed ranting, so I don’t really share it with anyone but friends. But how long can I keep that up?

A while. LOL!

*pressure…. pushing down on me….*

Yeah, I do a shitty Freddy Mercury. His ass always looked better than mine. *sigh*

Decisions, decisions. But! One less as of now. Now… I have a title.

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I’m baaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!

I dropped my grandmother off in North Carolina yesterday. She spent eleven months, to the day, living with us.

When an eight/nine hour round trip became like thirteen hours, I was ready to scream. But! I came in to find that my husband had moved my grandmother’s chair – disaster that it was –  out of my living room and replaced it with my favorite reading chair, it made the whole day worth it.

Now I need to spend a week getting our house back in order and our life back into something that resembles normal for us. We’re not normal, never will be, but it’ll be nice to get back to our brand of normal.

Then… the as-yet-untitled MS will be attacked.

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52, 586

And I have a first draft. Now the hard stuff begins. Editing.

Ya’ know what I want right now, though? Esteban likes to smoke these little Turkish cigarillo things that’re dipped in honey. I want one.

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51, 118 …

…. and 3k in character notes and outline in prep for the revamping of the first draft. So, I actually wrote a lot today, deleted a fair bit of scenery, too, but spent most of the day getting ready for the edits.

1.5 chapters before “The End”.  I’d finish tonight, but that’s hard with people milling about and I don’t want the pissy to translate over. 6am here I come.

*fist-pump*

YES!

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No word count!

Yes, I have added to it, and no, I don’t wanna bother with a count. It wasn’t that significant.  Read that to say a piss-poor damned job of it.

 

My grandmother leaves, supposedly, not this weekend but the next. I might just have to cry uncle and give up until she’s gone.  That’s how I feel today, anyway. Might feel differently tomorrow, I dunno. I can’t think to write, but I can think to read. So, that’s what I’ve been doing by the tons.

*dramatic pause with head hanging, head shaking, did-you-just-grow-six-freaking-heads look*

Really? And no, I don’t mean my family woes THIS time, though that does a good job of describing how I spent Monday night musing over the demise of certain family members; sitting here, looking longingly at the bottle of Bacardi and not getting a single word into the file.

Some of the things I’ve read over the last few days I just boggle about. Some were disappointing, even sad to an extent. Some were just so full of wtf-ery it was unreal. I have no tact – none – and I have found myself just…. wtf? Oh, the hypocrisy laden bullshit.

Other things I read and learned about did me a bit of good. On the writing note… the bits that did me some good…

I had a POV issue that was bugging the shit outta me. I have one chapter where Mason is really the only person in the chapter, so it’s told third person with a tint of his personality. One where Lien is the main character, though not the only one, and its narrative is tinged with HIS personality. Yet another with Este and Lien together and it’s third-person omniscient. (ooooo, I spelled that right! Auto-correct didn’t touch it! It’s the small victories, I tell ya!) So, I have no idea why I was having such a bloody freaking hard time writing yet another one third-person omniscient. But I was. And it was grating my nerves about the POV flops. Solved by reading a lecture on writing that says there’s nothing wrong with multiple POV’s. Some of the best do it and do it well. Issue over.

If I described that badly, please know I know what I meant. My brain is fried.

I have a character that I kept thinking did not need to be there, in spite of a great scene customized for him. Slashed the scene. Simplify. If two characters are fulfilling the same role, cut one. This was the case. Cool scene cut. How to make it work with the original dude? *nod* Took five seconds. Issue over. Geez. All that resolved with the decision to hit the delete key.

Lex, my beta, bless her… I had an hour long conversation with her husband today so I’m gonna make it official that Garrett is a beta, too. It was good to hear some things come out of his mouth that I know I have issues with because I have them in my “issue” notes to be fixed at the first draft. He’s really very good at a crit and had me pumped to write tonight…. then I came home and reality set in. Epic. Fail.

BUT! Basically, I’ve figured out that I know more about my craft than I thought I did and I need to quit putting SO much stock into advice I am given. I’m happier about the way the draft is going now. I might be STUCK three chapters from the end because the real world won’t stop hassling me, but I feel better about everything.

Now to just get some time.

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Crappy morning writing, for sure. BUT! I did get a chapter finished before I had to snatch up that free time that I was, suddenly and by some freaking miracle, granted to escape the house.

See, I don’t go anywhere but to the day job because of my grams. My husband and I have been in the car together, alone, exactly four times since last October. My daughter and I, probably about the same. So when she comes over and volunteers to go with me to Borders when I go drop off the water bill, I snatch it up. So… not much writing today.

My child never ceases to amaze me. We’re wandering around Borders and I’m about to pick up some anthology and she puts one right in front of me. “What about this one?”

I was floored. She had just so randomly picked up an anthology called Evolved, edited by Nancy Kilpatrick. I’d read a snip from Evolved II in the last few weeks and am DYING to have EII. Now I get the chance to read EI beforehand.

So. Stoked.

Rob Thurman and P.N. Elrod wound up the other two purchases. All three were the very last copies of ANY title by these authors in the store. I was not going to abandon them. Now I can’t wait for True Blood to go off so I can start reading.

At the moment, I need a nap. It’s scary out there. I need a kitten to protect me…..

*lookin to see if the husband is reading…..*

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Broke 50k!

48, 409 became 50, 321.

My head hurts something awful. I seriously have to stop before I screw something up. Fighting Esteban and Lien for even the slightest glimpse of their intimate relationship has been THE biggest bitch of a time. Lisa – as in Georgia Lisa, not Lady Disney-Kessler Lisa – suggested I was becoming a prude.

Ha. Ha. It. Is. To. Laugh.

I do smut quite well, thanks. But… nope, Este and Lien just don’t want their relationship reduced to smut. For anyone. They refuse and that became the end of THAT damned discussion REAL quick this morning.

I managed to get the point across on Mason and Este without it being graphic, and Lien and Fernando with it only having a small *WINCE* (yeah, I know I capitalized that! The wince is a HUGE ONE) so I quit fighting them and let them have their way. I’m now 2k of my way through the outline of that particular scene when I had ONE LINE of it before. When my headache is gone and I get up in the morning, I’ll have it even better.

Which is brilliant. Brilliant, I say! Brilliant in the “that’s great” kinda way, because there’s chapters waiting that’ll be relatively a lot easier than this one was. I get to move back to the zombie – love her, just love her – and then… the final chapter. Which leads to the all mighty first draft.

I. Am. Stoked.

But I neeeeed a break today….. and something for the headache.  Gods bless modern chemistry.

Cheers!

 

 

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Feedback

It’s a rule that Astrea goes AWOL on occasion, sometimes for no good reason. If you saw the last blog, that’s partly why. That said, I have to insert a disclaimer:

I was off of Farcebook a lot because they’re so screwed up right now. So, David, your red pen on my steampunk had nothing to do with my going AWOL. LOL! I know you may think it might have been, but it was just coincidence. :-)

The major reason why I went AWOL was that nasty word block. I mentioned a few blogs ago that we writers are nut-jobs and will milk a block for all its worth. I stand by it. This blog is mostly directed at beta readers and how you can help us stop feeding the Pit Bull that clamps down on our throat. Using my beta as an example.

Feedback describes the situation when output from (or information about the result of) an event or phenomenon in the past will influence an occurrence or occurrences of the same (i.e. same defined) event / phenomenon (or the continuation / development of the original phenomenon) in the present or future. When an event is part of a chain of cause-and-effect that forms a circuit or loop, then the event is said to “feed back” into itself.

Yes, I did copy and paste that from Wiki. I’m lazy and it’s beautifully explained, I couldn’t improve upon the point.

My beta reader is a co-worker’s wife. She was chosen because she either likes a book after a few pages and keeps reading or she chunks the book and won’t finish. I like that in a reader because I can be brutal that way. She’s an ordinary person who likes vampires and is looking for a good read. I like that, too. But her having half my WIP led to a huge block.

The entire week she had my first 178 pages, I couldn’t write. Not a freaking WORD. My muse was directing his attention towards her. I’d say, “Hey…” and my muse would say, “Shh.” and go back to staring in her general direction. For SEVEN DAYS. Why? Because I didn’t hear too much from her until yesterday. Oh, I heard a little and got a chuckle out of what I heard, but my writer’s brain (read: ego) was still not satisfied. See, I talk to her through her husband. I rarely talk to Lex, herself. Working on resolving that.

Beta readers need to give feedback, that’s a given. The WAY feedback is given is crucial. Keep in mind we are not asking you to PROOF READ with a red pen. This stage is not that intricate. BUT! Please don’t say, “It’s going great. I understood the flow, I get it.” The End.

*blank stare directed at the beta*

What we need is to know things like WHAT caused you to scream “NO!” through your house. Was it because of a scene in particular or because you were cut off at 178 pages?  Or both? Does the man who is speaking in a thick Cajun accent make sense, or does it need revision so the casual reader can understand him? Stuff like that.

Yesterday, she finally had questions. Garret waits until the office is empty and says, “Now that we’re alone….” I was like “HUH?” LOL!

She asked how to pronounce Luce. The origins of the name, to me, is a great story, so I happily answered. Even found her a link to listen to the accent. That made me think that maybe I needed to be more clear in the MS on how it was pronounced. She said that she clearly understood what people looked like because the descriptions were vivid. I was pleased, but it made me notice I use the words “spun rubies” too often. That the “NO!” was because what she’d read was shocking and “likely going to start a war!” *nod* Pretty much. I grinned.

Lex said more than that, but that’ll do for here. The words of what she said sound simple, but they’re not. They drove me to want to make it BETTER. Writers have egos in the extreme and when you ASK us, or TELL us things, you’re feeding the monster. The monster then wants to multiply and seek world domination. It’s a circle. (see definition) Feed me, Seymour. The more you give me, the more I’m gonna’ want to write and give to you. The more I’m going to want to make you yell across the house.

I woke up this morning and finally noticed…. I had a call from Lex last night. I hate my phone because it doesn’t beep repeatedly like my old one did and tell me, “Hey, DUMMY! You missed a call!” I even had a voice mail. THAT was funny because it wasn’t Lex, it was Garrett. LOL! I’m thinking, “Dude… let Lex use the damned phone.” Needless to say, I woke up this morning ready to write.

So, to beta readers everywhere: Be kind to us.

Kind in the sense that in most cases you’re the first person to hold our baby in your hands. We want to know that you’re taking good care of it. How do you do that? By telling us what’s wrong and what’s right; What you loved, what you hated; What made you angry, what made you sad; What you get, what you don’t get.

Because at this point, you might be reading OUR words, but we’re hanging on YOUR every word. You just gotta say em’.

 

 

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(So… I did have a different word than “wimp” but I’m trying not to explode.)

When you open a pack of erythromycin in powder form it sends a little *puff* of the powder out into the air. I keep forgetting that it does that. That shit tastes nasty and it burns the nose. Never you mind the 80′s flashback I just had.

See, my fish are sick. My babies, my loves. Let me backtrack….

I came home one day in the last week or so and one of my koi was belly up in the pond. I spent the next week in freak-out mode about the remaining puppies (the koi are my puppies) before I realized that shit happens. BUT! May be coincidence, I dunno…. but….it did not end there.

I have a sixty gallon tank in my hallway that holds the last of my tropical children. Some way! Some HOW! they, too, became ill. I have lost two rainbow sharks and one marigold somethin-or-other in that tank and one mean ass fish in yet ANOTHER tank. I can’t even remember what they were all called right now because my nerves are shot. I’m dosing their tanks with erythromycin for a week against my better judgement.

That big tank holds the last of my plecos. It’s home to Marley, my thirteen inch monster L25 pleco. Marley is like my SON!  There’s this very dainty, sweet little baby long-fin albino bristlenose pleco in there with him. She’s tiny. Then there’s Ziggy (yeah, Ziggy and Marley), who is an albino bristlenose. He’s a good size. Proud mama pics on my Facebook.

Mama is scared to death. Little dainty girl isn’t acting right. The last rainbow has the fungus on him. *sigh* The stupid neons that were bought as FEEDER fish for my ghost knife? *thumbs up* Right as rain! The ghost, he HAD a spot on him, but it fell off. Really????

::eyeroll:: I went outside to play with the puppies.

My neighbor’s cats came for dinner while I was out there. One of the cats resembles my old cat, Kal. She came up and wound around my ankles and actually let me pet her more than she ever has. It was when she butted her head into my hand and cocked that rub just so that her ear bent that I had a Kal flashback.

*wheewwwww* Yeah, between losing the koi, the tropicals and now worried about Marley? I spent a bit of time in tears in the yard. I haven’t emotionally dealt with losing Kal in spite of talking about her ALL THE TIME and it being just short of a year since she’s been gone, so that doesn’t help! Now I understand my husband when he says “NO MORE”, as in no more pets.

I understand, but I still want another cat.

I do not want any more “puppies”.

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St Francis de Sales

St Francis de Sales – ok, I have to laugh…. sales, ha!  - is the patron saint of writers.

I’m not religious, no matter how spiritual I can allow myself to be, but let’s talk, Francis. Here are a few things I ask, humbly and on bended knee.

We’ll start with my version of the Serenity Prayer: Grant me the serenity to write, the courage to be true to the vision in my head and the wisdom to know when it’s shit.

Please give me beta readers, friends, editors, crit partners, etc….. who love me, or at least care enough not to let me make a complete ASS out of myself with anything I try to publish. Please give them the nads – because I am quite the bitch – to stand up to me and tell me when something sucks.

Please… I don’t ever want to be a reviewer. I couldn’t handle it with any amount of grace. I am far too brutal and some people have no friends.

Thanks, Francis….

 

 

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