Writing contests--the good, the not-so-good & the truth

I've seen a number of articles and blogs about writing contests for the unpublished lately, whether they're worth entering, and just how much they are worth. On the whole, I'm in favor of them, if you know why you're entering and what you hope to get out of it.

I actually personally know of only one all-genre writing contest sponsored by a non-profit writing organization. I'm sure there are more, but the Frontiers in Writing contest, sponsored by Panhandle Professional Writers is a pretty good one. (I'd have linked directly to their 2010 contest info, because it ought to be starting pretty soon, but the website hasn't been updated just yet.) There are other contests, of course, but some of them look to me like they're sponsored by business ventures solely to make money off hungry authors.

Of course, the non-profit groups use the contests to make money to support their organization--but that's not their sole purpose. The Romance Writers of America sponsor the Golden Heart contest to give unpublished authors a chance to shine. The RWA chapters have contests for the same reason, and to give the entering authors some feedback on their manuscripts. The finalists and the winners in these contests also have a chance to get their pages in front of editors and agents in the business. That's the main reason some writers enter.

And contest finals and wins are good credentials to put in a query letter. Some contests are better than others, but if you start finaling in contests, especially if you make the finals in more than one, the "people who count" (aka those who are in a position to get you published) are going to start taking notice.

Yes, there are judges out there who will tell you that the whole premise of your book is faulty because they don't believe in terminal cancer, because prayer will heal you, or that your English heroine needs a reason to move to Ireland--when you thought marrying an Irishman was reason enough... But think about it a minute. This is actually a good thing. It gives you an opportunity to grow a thicker skin. A chance to learn to deal with rejections--even if the rejections may not be "fair." And with any luck you will also have those judges who will encourage you to look deeper at your story, dig deeper into your characters' psyches and then put it on the page.

Then there is the truth. Winning a contest will not get you published. Not even if it is the big Mama contest, RWA's Golden Heart. Yes, many of the winners thank the editors who just bought their book, but there are also many finalists and winners who still haven't sold a book.

There is also this truth. NOT Winning A Contest Will NOT PREVENT You From Getting Published. I Never won any contest for unpublished authors. I finaled a number of times in some good contests, but never, ever came in higher than 2nd place. And I Never, Ever Finaled in the Golden Heart. Ever.

But I have been a RITA finalist. For those who may not know, the RITA is RWA's big Mama contest to recognize the best in published romance fiction. In 2002, I was a finalist for Best First Book with my little Silhouette Desire romance.

And every single book I have had published since (so far, knock on wood) has either finaled, or won a contest. I won the Aspen Gold for best series romance with my second Desire, and my One Rose books--The Compass Rose came in second for the Prism Award, behind The Smoke Thief by Shana Abe, for Best Fantasy in 2006, The Barbed Rose won the Prism in 2007, and The Eternal Rose won it in 2008. (I did not enter any of the Rose books in the RITA.)

New Blood has been entered in several of contests. We'll see how it does. (Wish me luck--or a broken leg, whichever is appropriate.)

The thing is--contests can be helpful, both before and after publication. Just don't start believing that contests, in themselves, will can either get you published, or keep you from it. Only the writing can do that.

So keep writing!!

Vampires, Werewolves & Moons, Oh my!

I have noticed a lot of clamor floating around the Internets about vampires, and how many people wish they would go away. "No more vampire books!" they cry. "Vampire movies--HATE!" and more things along that line.

There are also a lot of hilarious reviews of the Twilight saga movie New Moon. I love these review/recaps. They are SO true. I thought there was too much standing around looking angsty (though they might have been constipated--hard to tell.)

And yet...I enjoyed the movie. Really. (All the shirtless werewolf dudes helped a lot. Hey--past 50 does not mean dead. My eyes work just fine with the glasses.)

And I do understand how so many teen/tween girls (and their moms) can love the books and the movies.

Confession time. I am not myself a big fan of vampire stories. I read Interview With the Vampire way back when it came out--didn't read any of the stories that came after. Most vampire stories I can take or leave. I do read a few vampire series, but only a few--most of which have a different mythology for their vampires: they're different species (J.R. Ward's Black Dagger Brotherhood), or they're humans who caught a virus (Lynn Viehl's Darkyn books). I also am addicted to Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake books (they are my crack!)(I like Hamilton's Meredith Gentry books a little better--but it really doesn't matter. Crack, I tell you, they are crack). Do not tell me how bad they are, and how bad they are for me. I do not care. I like them. And because I have this addiction, I Understand.

And to all those who wish to see no more vampire books, and no more sparkly vampire stories or movies or anything vampire (unless it's related to blood & gore & violence), I say SHUT UP. You do not get to pick. You do not get to dictate to people what we should or should not read, watch or enjoy.

As long as people are buying and reading sexy/sparkly/emo vampires, publishers will keep publishing the books. As long as people are going to movies about sparkly/sexy/emo vampires, (and Hoo-boy! Are they!) Hollywood will keep making movies like that, trying to repeat the phenomenon.

And yeah, we do get a glut of them, and some of them aren't as good as others. Some might be downright bad. In the Opinion of Some. But people are still buying them. When they get tired of them, they will stop buying them, and that will be okay too.

People (even pre-teen/tween people) are allowed to like what they like and read what they want to read.

I don't like bloody, ultra-violent books where people get both hands cut off with a hacksaw. (Ick.) But I don't go around saying "Publishers should stop publishing horror novels!" You can like what you like. You can even say that you don't like vampire books. (Though I've found that most of those who say they don't like vampires like them just fine when they're bloody and violent and horrible, they just don't like the sexy-sparkly ones.)

Just let me like what I like too, and don't try to tell me what I Should like. I don't care. I'm going to make up my own mind, thank you.

(Disclaimer: I resisted reading any of the Twilight books for a very long time, until after the fourth one came out. (They're vampires. I'm not a fan of vampires.) I did not even know they existed, until my 27-year-old son, who read them and loved them, insisted I read them, and gave me his copy of Twilight. I did enjoy it. But haven't got round to reading any more. I also liked Meyers' The Host. And I liked the movies.)

Pre-Thanksgiving Baking Frenzy

We're going to visit family for the holidays. My older son, the buttermilk pie lover, thinks it can't be Thanksgiving if he doesn't get buttermilk pie. The recipe makes two, so there are two pies in the freezer waiting to be packed. The younger son's girlfriend requested pecan pie, which also happens to be my favorite, so I baked a pecan pie yesterday. I buy ready-made pie crusts, because --well, you know why. And there are 2 pie crusts in each package. I made 3 pies. I had a pie crust left over. So I made another pie. The fudge pie is baking as I type.

Also, since the buttermilk pie recipe didn't use up all the buttermilk I bought, I baked a recipe of my no-flour cornbread so we could have some for dressing, or whatever. (We may need to take a separate pan of gluten-free dressing for those who can't eat white bread.) My cornbread recipe calls for buttermilk. I didn't have quite enough, so I also soured a cup of regular milk to go in it.

Let's see--I had all these pies, and I was saving them to eat at Thanksgiving, or while we were visiting relatives, but I wanted something sweet, so I mixed up a little package mix of chocolate chip cookies. (I took a few to the Brit at the paper, who has something of a sweet tooth.) And then, I really needed to make some dessert for the fella, since he can't eat the pie crusts. (He can eat the fudge & pecan pies, and if I'd thought to sub cornstarch for flour in the buttermilk, he could eat those. But he can't eat the crust--and I know I can sub crumb crusts--but they're not as good with these really sweet pies...) So I made gluten-free brownies from a mix last night. They look and smell pretty good.

And then--Mama gave me her bread machine. It was just taking up room in their laundry room. She hasn't used it in two years (maybe more), and I know she won't think about using it again. So I said thankyouverymuch, and brought it home with me. And it is now baking a loaf of gluten-free bread.

When I plugged it in, all the lights started blinking at once. So I started punching buttons. After a while, those lights stopped blinking, and another set of lights came on. I kept punching buttons. I hit stop, start, menu, timer--sometimes I got a beep, sometimes I didn't. Eventually, I hit some right button, because the timer lit up, and the lights stopped blinking, and only a few lit up, and when I punched a button, it didn't beep at me, and something happened when I hit the button, like the program changed. I think I have all the settings right. I punched the Start button, and it is actually working. The dough got all stirred up. I ought to have a loaf of GF bread in another couple of hours. Cool!

The fella doesn't eat many sandwiches, but he might like to, if he had bread. He does love French toast for breakfast, on the mornings he eats breakfast. We'll take it with us to his folks' because he eats breakfast during the holidays. I'm hoping this works.

The thing is--I really do enjoy baking good things to eat for my family during the holidays. I don't bake much the rest of the time, because my family is nearing an empty nest, and the boy still living at home is the one who would have Halloween candy left over at Easter. Not much for sweets. So when I fix special things for him, they tend to be pot roast with herbs or shrimp enchiladas.

(Oh--and I have a blog post at "My Book, The Movie" about who I would/did cast as the main characters in New Blood. Go read it. It's fun. ;) )

And since I'm in a baking, sharing mood, and everybody on the internet is sharing recipes, it seems like, I'm going to share my easy-peasy not-from-scratch shrimp enchilada recipe, and the famous buttermilk pie recipe (which came from a Southern Living cookbook.)

Easy-peasy shrimp enchiladas

1 pound peeled, cooked shrimp
1 jar Alfredo sauce
1 can chopped green chilis
1 can green chili enchilada sauce
8 oz. grated cheese
12-14 corn tortillas

Mix the cooked shrimp with the Alfredo sauce and chopped green chilis. Spoon sauce with 2 to 4 shrimps in each tortilla, add cheese, and roll up enchilada style in a 13x9 baking pan. When all the tortillas are used/you're out of space in your pan, pour any remaining Alfredo sauce over the top. Pour the can of green chili enchilada sauce over it and top with any remaining cheese. (If that doesn't look like enough cheese, add more!)

Bake at 350 degrees for 20-30 minutes. Till the cheese is melted and everything is heated through.

You can use shrimp frozen raw in a bag (you have to cook it & usually peel it), leftover shrimp from those rings they sell in the grocery store, or leftovers from a shrimp boil. It's all good. (But the fresh leftovers are the best, of course.) I like the Alfredo sauce with cheese, but it's all good. We eat corn tortillas because of gluten issues, but if you really want, you can use flour. (I think corn are better.) I did not specify a type of cheese, because I have used Monterrey Jack cheese, mild Cheddar cheese, and a mix of both. You could probably even use Mozzarella, if you really wanted to. It's all good. I just used what I had. (Jack cheese with peppers would be good, if you want to spice it up more. This is pretty mild.) This is easy to fix, and you can use whatever you have on hand...

If they don't have green enchilada sauce in the stores where you live--I am so sorry you have to live in a place that doesn't know what good eating is, and you can probably find some in a specialty store. I buy the store brand here... Can y'all even get green chilis at all? Not jalapenos. Hatch or New Mexico green chilis. They're not as hot as jalapenos but have lots of flavor.

Okay. Now for

Mary's Buttermilk Pie
which is from The Southern Heritage Cookbook series in the Pies and Pastry book c 1984 by Oxmoor House. I keep a bookmark on the page.

1 cup butter or margarine, melted
3 cups sugar
6 eggs
1/4 cup all purpose flour (can sub 3 Tbsp cornstarch to make it GF)
1 cup buttermilk
2 tablespoons water
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon lemon juice
2 unbaked 9-inch pastry shells (GF for those who need it)

Combine butter, sugar, eggs, flour/cornstarch, buttermilk and water in a medium mixing bowl. Mix well. Stir in vanilla and lemon juice. Mix well.
Pour filling evenly into pastry shells. Bake at 350 for 50 minutes or until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool pies before slicing. Yields two 9-inch pies.

(I usually have to bake them closer to 60 min. to get them done, but that may just be my oven.)

Remember, this makes TWO pies.

It's Been a While

I've been out of town. I blogged about it here.

I guess that's why it doesn't feel like it's been that long since I posted a blog. Because I did. Just not here. Oops. Sorry, y'all.

And when I got home from coping with all of that, I had medical stuff, plus Ian at the newspaper wanted me to work extra last week, so I did. Then I had a thing Saturday, and... well, it was just really, really busy.

So, anyway--I did have some pretty good news today, after weeks of running like a crazy person. Heart's Blood, the book that's coming out right before the new year, was given 4-1/2 stars from RT Book Reviews and named a Top Pick! in Science Fiction & Fantasy.

I'm not sure why it wasn't in the Paranormal Romance section, since it's published by Tor Paranormal Romance, but there were only two Top Picks in SF/F. Less competition. ;) Anyway, I still don't know what the review actually SAYS, but it's a Top Pick, and I'm happy.

Today is the boy's birthday. My baby is getting old. He's 23. (He should graduate next spring? A nasty chemistry course has popped up that he may have to take in summer...) Anyway, we had a card, and a nice dinner (pot roast with herb gravy & Real mashed potatoes with lots of butter), and then a pineapple cheesecake. I'd never made it before, but it was GOOD. Yum. And we watched Star Trek on DVD.

Even in this new version--I like Dr. McCoy and Mr. Scott the best. Karl Urban and Simon Pegg. Rowr.

Seems like there was something else cool I could tell you--Oh! I got the excerpt for Heart's Blood up on my website. Go check it out. :)

Now I think I am going to go dissolve in my bed.

Something to Talk About

That's what I need. A subject for my blog. The weekend was far busier than I wanted it to be. I really wanted a lazy weekend, but the fella wanted to Do Stuff. We went to the Wings Over Houston air show and saw the Blue Angels we missed in San Francisco. We hurried home to be there for trick-or-treaters, and got exactly four kids, in two families--two kids each. Then we went over to friends for drinks and snackies. It was fun, but I was ExHausTed.

The week has flown by. I feel like I've been working all week, but I've only gone in two days. I have to go to the parents' house tomorrow to go with Mom through some doctor stuff, and won't be home again till Monday. Then I have doctor stuff of my own. Ugh. All of which makes the week feel VERY short. Because I haven't Done Anything. At least I don't feel like I have.

The boy introduced me to an online game. (Bad boy!) It does allow for lengthy breaks in which to do one's business.

Also, I was smacked in the head with a new story idea, and since I need to send the chapters I'm revising out for a read, I think I'm going to take part of November to do a me-style NaNoWriMo (I don't sign up, don't log in words, etc. because I don't do them on a computer) and see what I can do with this. Especially since I'm going to be out of pocket for 5 days. I woke up this a.m. with scenes and dialogue floating through my head, so I really think I'm going to have to. For a little while at least. Then maybe it will leave me along. Maybe I can write it episodically.

So. This is a very short post, because I'm having a short week. Or maybe it's a long one. I don't know. I feel rather brain dead. Next week doesn't look to be much better. The Brit at the paper wants me to work 3 days to make up for the other person being out half a day--but I have this doctor stuff, and I'm not sure I'm going to feel like it. We will see. I may only want to come in ONE day. Ah well. I'll hang in. Y'all hang too.

What is it About?, or, What I learned at the Retreat

When I go to conferences or retreats or workshops, I believe that if I learn One Thing that will help me (even at cooking lessons or art classes) in the future, then the event was worth my time.

So at the end of my wonderful weekend near Waco (Valley Mills is about 25 miles NW of Waco, but it's not alliterative), we had a session of "What did you learn at the retreat this weekend?" I honestly don't remember what everybody else said. Maybe by the time I get to the end of the blog, I will. There were only four of us left by Sunday morning--that's all that stayed the night, so it's not that much for me to remember. You would think it wouldn't be difficult. But I've slept since then. Several times. Anyway...

What I learned at the retreat: You Have To Keep Your Focus on What The Story Is About.

During our critique sessions, and our plotting sessions especially, the group kept going off on tangents, and someone (often me) would have to get us back on the point.

Over the years, I have been on a lot of committees. Committees have a bad tendency to go off track and start talking about--all kinds of silly things that have nothing to do with why the committee is meeting. I don't like to sit around at meetings for hours on end. I want to get the business done and move on. I have spent a lot of time in meetings going "Okay, so we're going to have a booth at the Fourth of July celebration, and its going to be the library's used book sale, right? What other fundraisers do we want to do?" when the meeting got off on those little tea cakes Frances brought to the luncheon... I'm big on moving things along.

During the retreat, I found myself going: "Okay, so what's this book about? Is it a romance? A mystery? A post-apocalyptic adventure? What?" (You try saying 'post-apocalyptic' three times fast. Ain't easy, is it?) Not to move things along, but to be sure I was properly critiquing the material. If you don't know what it's supposed to be, it's hard to make sure that's what you're reading.

When we were plotting--we worked on three different stories for three people--we had discussions on "what is the main plot, and what is the B-plot." One of the stories was like "Twilight" in that she wanted the main plot to be the romance, but had a suspense plot with a bad guy as the subplot. Except when we were plotting we kept coming up with ideas for the subplot.

How the bad guy would find out about the heroine. How the heroine would feel about the death in the story. It was almost like we wanted to do that plot more than the main plot--and we would have to get off the subplot tangent and go back to the main plot. How would the author show the budding romance between her victimized heroine and her cop hero? Then someone would say something like--"Oooh, but what if she has a gun? And the hero sees her gun, and runs a trace on it. And--and--" and we'd get sucked right back into that suspense subplot. Which played off the main plot and pushed it forward--but wasn't the main plot.

I kept coming back to "But what's the story about? What kind of story is it?"

Brainstorming a plot is sort of like plotting by committee. All ideas are welcome. It's the author's job to decide which ideas she likes. It's the author who has to keep control, who has to know What Kind Of Story It Is, and maintain a focus on that, on what he wants the story to be about. Whether you create an extensive chapter-by-chapter plot outline, a quick one-page list of plot points, or just start writing without much more than an idea of how the story will end, it's important to remember What The Story Is About.

This, actually, is why I have my one-page outline to write from. Because in my past--I think it still lives in my file cabinet--I have a historical romance that I wrote before I learned this lesson. I call it my 600-page octopus, because it's at least that long, and it goes off on as many tangents as an octopus has arms. (or more) I kept forgetting what the story was about, and sticking in this adventure, or this mini-romance, or that complication. That story grew, and grew, and grew, and got absolutely nowhere. I didn't maintain focus.

It has taken me a while to learn that I am so easily distracted by every shiny story bauble that floats by, I MUST have that outline so that I can maintain that focus on What This Story Is About. Otherwise, I'll end up writing some other story. Or no story at all, but another octopus. You may need some other tool to help you maintain focus, or you may not need any tool at all, if you're a fly-into-the-mist, seat-of-the-pants writer. (I am in awe of you types.)

The important thing to take away is that novels are really long. They take a long time to write, and it can be easy to get distracted. In order to get from the beginning, all the way to the end, you have to keep in mind What The Story Is About.

Retreats for Writers

Or maybe it was a Treat for Writers.

I went on my annual pilgrimage to Valley Mills with my writer friends for the Heart of Texas writers' retreat.

The place we go isn't fancy. There are cobwebs in the rafters, and the floor slopes across the back room from the bathroom to the back door. There are 3 bunk beds, providing room for 6 to sleep, and a double bed at one end of the front room. (There's a kitchen at the other end.) There is no heat unless you light the propane heater--and we didn't light it. It got COLD that first night...but warmed up later. My friend Belinda and I went out a day early because we both had the day off. And it was wonderful.

There'd been a lot of rain lately, so the tank (man-made pond, for you non-Texans) right behind the cabin had water running into it, and out of it--into a pretty good-sized waterfall not too far away. Lots of limestone makes for lots of waterfalls. When there's enough water to fall. This was the first time the tank's been full enough to have a good-sized creek running out of it, and the water sang to us the whole time we were there.

We critiqued my synopsis (B came up with the perfect last line for it.) We wrote our morning pages. Belinda and I are going through The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron together, and we were bad. We wrote our morning pages together, and we kept stopping to talk. It took us a couple of hours to finish. By the time we went into town for lunch and got back to the ranch, the other participants were starting to show up.

Friday night, we had 7 there by the time everyone got off work and came out. We ate sandwich for supper. (One great BIG sandwich in a ring, we cut into sections. We ate that sandwich a couple of days.) We critiqued the chapters of the people who sent them--four of us. We talked plot for the chapters we critiqued. I got too loud.

Four of us spent the night, one more came back around 10:30 a.m. And we did some writing drills--the ones where you take an assortment of items out of a bag and write a scene that includes all of the items. We plotted stories for me and another lady. B and I walked around the tank and down where we could see the waterfall from the front side. Sort of. Then we jumped the creek to get back. I took off my shoes and socks, in case I fell in. I didn't have walking shoes, and I almost slid out of the backs of my clogs climbing the back side of that tank, because clogs don't have backs.

We spent some time writing on our own stuff. B and Diana (the middle person in this second picture--Belinda is on the right and Shelley on the left) went into town to get Diana some water, and brought back pizza for supper. After supper, we watched the movie "Twilight" and then analyzed its plot points. We used the plotting method from the Save the Cat book by Blake Snyder, and found it interesting that the main plot was the romance between Edward and Bella, and the subplot was the bad vampires. Most movies are the other way round. We talked writing until midnight or so, and it felt like we'd hardly got started.

Of course, after sleeping 3 nights on those bunk beds-- they weren't bad, but they weren't the best beds in the world either-- we weren't exactly looking our best. Belinda did not want her picture taken. I haven't seen all the pictures taken of me. I'm hoping I can cut myself out of the worst ones... Yes, I forgot to take my camera. I forgot my sleeping bag--you think I'd remember my camera? (The beds had clean sheets and blankets that worked just fine.) I remembered all the critiques I'd printed out, and my notebook for the morning pages. The important stuff. (Also my toothbrush and blow dryer.)

Sunday, we got up and did some other exercises, then cleaned up, threw away our trash, divvied up the remaining groceries (I got the Fritos, a package of bagels and the blueberry cream cheese), hugged everybody good bye and went home again. We're going to try to do this again in the spring, so we can have a spring and a fall retreat, more than just once a year.

So now my synopsis is fixed, my partial's been critiqued, and I'm printing it out to send off to the agent. I really like retreating... :)

Worst Sky Rat: Seagull, Pigeon, Grackle??

Okay. So, I went walking out by the water today. It was a rather surfy morning with lots of wind and birds (royal tern, snowy egret, cormorants, pelicans, willets, first ring-beaked gull of the season, as well as herds and flocks of laughing gulls), and I saw these ladies feeding the gulls.

As I walked nearer, more gulls arrived. They were flying over from--from miles away, or it seemed like it. The gulls already present didn't seem to be making much noise. No cries other than the usual, from what I could tell, and not many of those. And I decided that seagulls must have telepathy.

There must be some extrasensory sense they use to tell each other when somebody's throwing food. Because there might be One seagull when the first breadcrumb gets pitched, and dozens mass out of nowhere to fight over it.

I'm pretty sure these ladies aren't local. Most of the locals are not fond of seagulls. They're too much of a nuisance to want to feed them. There are a few locals who will feed seagulls. The matriarch of a local restaurant kingdom used to feed the seagulls from the balcony of the hotel next to their flagship restaurant. There's a statue in the restaurant of her, or someone, feeding gulls. There's a story going round (I don't know how true it is) that she died falling from the balcony while feeding the gulls. But let's leave that depressing digression and return to my next thought.

Which was: Which is the worst nuisance? Pigeons, grackles or seagulls?

They are all known for gathering in great swarms. They are all known for pooping on everything in range. Frequently, with great disgustingness and stench. But which one is the worst of the sky rats?

My vote goes to grackles.

Seagulls? They're stuck by large bodies of water. They have webbed feet , so they can't sit in trees and poop on the cars parked under them. (Take note, director of 300 where a seagull sits on a spear--not possible. Webbed feet can't grasp a spear!) Their cries aren't that annoying. Laughing gulls have a lower pitched cry than other gulls, so it's less annoying than those others. They're also smaller birds, as gulls go, so they don't poop as much as the big herring gulls. Also, I haven't seen them sitting on the beach in groups larger than, oh, maybe 30 or so. Mostly less.

Pigeons have a wide range. We have pigeons on the beaches. Sometimes. They do sit in trees and on statues and stuff, and I think there may be a pigeon ESP as well, because they seem to gather instantly when somebody starts throwing bread crumbs. But they don't seem to gather in flocks as large as the grackles. Also, they're edible. And they coo. Nice, soft, cuddly-sounding coos.

Grackles? They're as big as pigeons, beak to tail, but they're skinny. No meat on their bones. And they collect in flocks that can take over whole city parks. Thousands of birds. We took this picture in February/March (around Mardi Gras). The power lines are not that thick. There are birds along every line, and they're all over the lines across the street, and along the rooflines, and in the trees (there aren't many) and Everywhere. Massive, Alfred-Hitchcock-worthy flocks.

Besides all the pooping and gathering and flocking, grackles do not coo. They do not tweet or chirp or cheep. They Screech. Like nails on a blackboard. Literally. And they clack. Sort of like a 3 Stooges "Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk," but louder. And more clacky. And then they screech again. Endlessly. Back and forth at each other in their ginormous flocks.

If I have to have grackles, or pigeons, or seagulls, I will take seagulls. If I can't have seagulls, I'll take pigeons. If only I do not have to deal with grackles. Unfortunately, on the island, we have all three. Sigh.

Oh. I took a picture of a little sand crab too. It was very cool. I almost didn't see it, it's so tiny, and so close to the same color as the sand. Can you see it in the middle of the picture? It's casting a pretty big shadow. The whole thing, from one end of its little legs to the other, is about the size of my thumb, to give you a size comparison. I only spotted it (and the other, smaller one I saw) because they were running across the sand. Back to their holes, maybe.

I did write today. I got all the way to the end of the action in the synopsis. I now need to write the emotional denouement. I am not sure what it will be. I also pretty much left all the romance plot out of the synopsis. I'm trying to lean harder to one way or the other in SF or romance. I do pretty much half and half, most of the time. I can write the romance in the story, but I'm having trouble writing it into the synopsis. It's like--the romance happens while they're doing this other stuff. We'll see how it works. Maybe this story is the other way round. Ah well.

So--what's your vote? Grackles? Pigeons? Seagulls? Which is the worst nuisance???

Intuitive Writing Process

I've taken part recently in a discussion (I read the blog, read all the comments and made a comment of my own--and now can't remember where it is...and Google isn't spitting it up) about whether becoming a writer had destroyed my ability to read as a reader. I contend that it mostly has not. Because it hasn't.

Part of that, I think, is because I'm a very fast reader. The other part, however, has to do with--I think--the fact that I honestly don't have any idea how I write. I'm not a very structural writer. More intuitive.

No, I do not sit down and just write. I have to have a semblance of a plot outline before I can really jump into the story and get where I want to go. I think this is because I am so VERY disorganized and--well, intuitive--in the way I write, that if I don't have that minimal amount of structure--a road map, or point-to-point guide--I can't get anywhere.

But when I'm reading my own stuff, I don't necessarily know what's wrong with it. I can usually tell when something's reading slow, and I need to thin it out. Or cut it entirely. But I'm not real good at analyzing scenes--especially when I'm in the middle of writing them. I just write what feels like needs to be there.

It's possible I'm more analytical than I realize I am. I do remember writing dialogue scenes and having to stop and go back, because I didn't get some information in that I wanted revealed, or the characters didn't say what I wanted them to say. Sometimes, I stop and rearrange all the dialogue, because it doesn't lead logically from one thought to another. (dialogue doesn't always, but I do try to keep the non-sequiturs to a minimum.) And sometimes, I cut stuff out, because Somebody already said that once. Or twice. And yes, this happens on the first draft through.

Anyway, I think this relates to my ability to still read as a reader. Sometimes I stumble over things--misused words, or historical anachronisms--but if it's a good story, it's not much of a stumble. I keep flying through. Then at the end of the book, I have to stop and think "Okay, what did I really think about that book." Because sometimes, I reach the end with the feeling that something is just a bit off, or maybe a lot off, and I have to think about why.

I'm in the middle of a book right now, which I have been enjoying less and less as i've gotten deeper into it, and I can tell you exactly why. It's depressing. In the beginning of the book I was willing to give the characters some slack, if they were maybe a little too mean, too callous, too selfish to really like them. There were other, more likeable characters to follow. But then the author killed off the decent characters, had others fall apart, let the roguish character go a little too roguish, and let the bad guys loose to be really, really bad.

I know he's doing the "dark before the dawn" thing--but I'm only on about p. 1782 (out of 3345--it's on my Sony reader, and I have the print turned up to medium-this is a really LoNG book), and there's a lot of dark ahead of me, and there's only one character left I even sort of like. I'm not sure I have enough reason to finish it. Especially since it's science fiction, and thus no happy ending guaranteed.

This is why I read, and write romance. Because the characters are likable, and there's a happy ending.

Another Travelogue

I did have an idea for something to write in this blog last night...and of course, now that it's morning, I've forgotten every idea I ever had. Sigh.

Maybe if I put on my computer glasses... Yes, I have a separate pair just for working at the computer. Trifocals would just divide up my bad vision that much more...

Nope. Doesn't help. So you will get another travelogue, because I am now home from San Francisco, fixing to head out again (Yes. FIXING TO. I am a Texan. Deal with it.)

So. We ate our way across San Francisco and Sausalito. Went with a group of fellow Galvestonians to Muir Woods to see the redwoods. Wow. If I knew where the camera was, I would download pictures and post them. But it's in the fella's briefcase, and that sucker has so many compartments and booby traps, I'm afraid to go hunting for it. (The camera, not the briefcase. Though I'm not sure where that is either.)

We went on a small bus, because the large ones won't fit on the road that goes down into the canyon where Muir Woods National Monument is. The only road I've been on that compares, in terms of twisty hairpin curves and vertical drops was in Norway. Even Independence Pass, across the Continental Divide in Colorado, does not compare. And our bus driver drove like a bat out of Hades. And we were in the very back seats on the bus, thumping up and down and swaying and almost flying out of our seats with every curve and pothole. It was rather like a rollercoaster. Only without safety bars. Though on the way down, I was wedged in pretty tight--the seats barely had room for my knees...

But the trees were amazing. And the creek was picturesque. We even saw a 10-point black-tailed buck. Cool.

We ate fish & chips in Sausalito for lunch. We rode the ferry across the bay and watched some stunt pilots in the air show. There were so many pleasure boats out on the water (both sail & motor) I'd swear you could walk from Fisherman's Wharf to Alcatraz stepping from one boat to another. There was probably more room than that between them, but it looked that close. We went looking for a balcony to watch the rest of the air show (It was Fleet Week, and the Blue Angels were supposed to perform.) and wound up eating again. I had ice cream. With very delicious chocolate sauce, and whipped cream.

Then we walked further down Fisherman's Wharf to find another "better" view of the Blue Angels--except they called off the show on account of fog and wind. Oh well. So we went and sat outside a pub where they were watching the Texas-Colorado game inside. These were mostly Colo. fans. (Oh well.) And I was freezing. I pretty much froze the entire time I was in San Francisco. Except when I was inside the MoMA and had to take off my jacket. The rest of the time, I was cold.

Eventually, we worked our way back to the hotel. And went out for Chinese food for supper. We were going to go to the Irish Pub down the street first, but they were so slammed, we never got waited on. (And I wanted to have a cider. Darn.) So we left. And that was our eating adventure.

When I got hungry the next day, I wasn't sure if I was really hungry, or just so used to being stuffed to the gills, it felt strange when I wasn't...

I have thought nothing about writing. I have done my morning pages. Except for today. Drat. Better go do that. I had the notebook out, but... I'm being very bad.

Still have a few more things to do before I can leave to check on parents. Like buy gas for the vehicle. I'll get there. I think I'm going to have to start going up to go to all doctor appointments with them. I wonder if I can get Daddy on that Alzheimer's medicine. I'm not sure that's what Mama has, but I think that's my Daddy's problem. We'll talk about it.

My Heart Isn't the Only Thing in San Francisco

All of me is here. I am currently sitting on the 18th floor of a hotel near Union Square, piddling around on the fella's laptop. I was thinking I would have a really long blog post to write when I get home...and realized (duh!) that I had a computer. With Internet access. I can write a not-so-long blog post Now. So I am.

I was going to work on my science fiction romance synopsis, and when I got the folder out of my red bag, I realized that I did not manage to stick in the page where I'd worked out the plot. I put in the form I made for the Hero's Journey plotting--but I hadn't filled in any of the blanks on that one. I sort of remembered what I had in mind, so I got about 3 sentences written. But I wanted a bigger finale than what I could recall of my plot ideas. And I kind of decided my main idea really wouldn't work. So I got out the Tarot cards and did a GMC spread and that gave me an idea or two. I think I sort of know how I can spice things up some.

So that was yesterday morning. I went out for lunch, then walked down to the Museum of Modern Art, since that was one of my "goals" for the trip--to visit an art museum. I got there just in time to join the lecture on the special exhibit of Richard Avedon photography, so that was all good. It was very interesting. And I got to see the other exhibits--some Matisse and other paintings & sculptures. There was a very interesting one titled "Bridge" that was done as part of the WPA in the Depression, and now I can't remember who did it. But it got "assigned" to the MOMA as part of the project. I liked that one a lot. Liked a lot of the art, actually, but that one made a big impression.

I often set goals for my trips. Things I want to see in a place. The last time I was in San Francisco, last summer, I had one afternoon to do sightseeing, so my goal was just to see Something. I walked to Chinatown. (Nearly killed me, climbing those hills.) This time, I wanted to go down to Fisherman's Wharf (twice so far), ride the cable cars, actually see the bridge, and maybe get out of the city a little bit.

When we went to Europe--Many years ago--I wanted to: 1. See a WWII resistance museum; 2. See some crown jewels. 3. See a Medieval castle. We saw a whole lot more stuff than that, but I did get to see those three things. We saw the Danish crown jewels in Rosenborg palace in Copenhagen. And the WWII rsistance museum in Oslo is in a 13th century castle, Akershus, whch was used as Gestapo headquarters during the occupation of Norway. It helps to have goals, I think. :) (Yes, I am a Virgo. So is the fella.)

And then I walked back from MoMA and succumbed to the temptation of going into the Britex Fabrics store. I haven't done any sewing since we moved to Galveston, but I am still a sucker for beautiful fabrics, and of course, they had their most beautiful there on the first floor. I wouldn't let myself go to any of the other 3 floors--I probably would have gone into a coma. And I managed to limit myself to buying only One Yard of a beautiful Chinese green/black/gold brocade. I will make a cushion of it. Or if it doesn't go in either my bedroom OR my den, I'll make a vest. Yes, I am a fabric junkie.

Got back to the room, & went with the fella and a bunch of the folks with us to Scoma's on the waterfront. We rode the cable car over, which was fun, but COLD. I am a wussy Gulf Coast Texan. It was very warm and even more humid when we left town. And it's in the 60s For The High temp here (I'm not converting to C because I'm on the flla's computer & he doesn't have the website bookmarked), which means it's colder most of the time. I brought jackets and long sleeves, but my ears and hands got cold. Frankly, I'm spending a fair bit of the time Freezing.
(Typos are Not my fault. I'm hitting the keys, but this keyboard is apparently finicky. Must not be holding my mouth right, or something.)

Anyway, we went to eat at this wonderful seafood restaurant which everyone told us was wonderful--and it was. Absolutely Delicious. I had swordfish--which I had never had before, but there is no seafood I do not like--except for oysters, and yes, I have tried them. I keep trying periodically, but still me and oysters do not mix. I knew I would like the swordfish--and it was indeed wonderful. We have eaten at many wonderful places. Had Italian food (veal scallopini in sambucco-cream sauce) at Venticello last night. Excellent. Fella had shrimp/scallop risotto. He had shellfish saute last night. We get excellent seafood at home. Really. It's not like we don't get a chance to eat it normally. We just like seafood. Going for more tonight. I'm not really a "foodie," but I do appreciate the chance to eat yummy food. (Which is undoubtedly why I look the way I do. Sigh.)

One of the ladies in the group had spent yesterday shopping. I have only been to the one fabric store, and to the store at the MOMA. (Bought a very cool trinket box. Not sure how I will get it home tho...) Since the fella is skipping out on his conference this afternoon, maybe we'll do a little shopping then. My thing it--I don't see any reason to shop in stores I can shop in at home... We have a Macy's. We do not have an Asian Arts Center. So--

I brought my watercolors to try and paint a little, but with my afternoon being preempted, I suppose I won't get the chance. Oh well. I tried.

I do not have a camera on my cell phone. It's VERY basic, and really stupid, and definitely not a 3G phone. More like .5G. Anyway, when we get home, and I can download the pictures we've taken onto my own computer, I will post some. It's time to go hunt for a hamburger...

"Write, Write, Write"

There's a debate on the web, about the "just write" advice writers often give each other.

One side says: "Just plant your fanny in the chair and write, whether it's working or not, whether you feel like it or not, no matter what. Don't edit--just write."

The other side says: "If it's not coming, take a break. Read a book. Watch a movie. Take a walk. Write something else. Do other writing-type stuff like marketing. Just don't push it."

And, as usual, I'm one of the people who says "Yes, Exactly!" to both sides. (I've always been one of those "yes" people when asked either/or questions. As in "Do you want chocolate or vanilla?" Me: "Yes, please." or "Can't I have both?")

See, there are times when you just have to power through. Like when there's a deadline. And there are times when you're better off taking a break, because there's something wrong with the story and you have to let your subconscious work on what the problem is.

I think part of the debate comes when people are told "If you don't do this, then you're not a real writer." Which is BAD. Even when we tell it to ourselves. I'm working through Julia Cameron's Artist's Way (and I'm not making a link for that, because I have too much to do as it is--you'll just have to look it up yourself) with my best friend, because she's been doing some of that to herself. Any time someone tells you that you have to write This Way, because otherwise you're doing it wrong, it's BAD. Because it just ain't so.

Your writing goals are Your writing goals. Your process--How You Write--is Your process. I probably do it differently. So does everybody else. And however you do it--if it works for you, then Great! If it doesn't work, well--try something else.

That said--if you want to be a writer, and you're not writing? That's when you have to just Sit Your Fanny In That Chair and WRITE.

If you've been writing, and it's not working? Try something different.

I spent February through mid-July of this past year (as those of you who have read this before know) wrestling mightily with The Book That Became Heart's Magic. I wrote pages and pages and pages of scenes that will not be in the book. They are Good scenes. A little action-heavy, but good. I'm hoping I will get to use them elsewhere with some tweaking. I may not. I wrote them because I had a Sept. 1 deadline and had to get the book done. But I knew something wasn't right. The book just Was Not Coming Together.

Some days I wrote a whole half page. Some days I wrote Nothing. I walked on the beach. I journaled about the issue. I brainstormed and plotted with friends. I visited family and went to writer's conferences and free-wrote and took the dog for walks and read books and watched movies. I fit and fought with the thing--knock-down-drag-out combat. And I wasn't winning. (Not sure who was, but it sure wasn't me.) I kept writing, but writing wasn't all I did. It took me till mid-July and a conversation with my editor before I finally figured out that it was a plot issue, and the issue was that I had way too much. (As I have said before.)

But all of that wrestling and struggle and fighting was not a waste. Since this is the second time I've done it, I will probably try to put way too much plot into a book again, and not figure it out for a while. (The plots of New Blood and Heart's Blood were originally both in New Blood. I realized I had two complete plots about 1/3 of the way through NB.) If I get to write more blood magic books, I already have a plot for one. :) And I think--by the time I did pull my plot together, I knew my characters and world so well, things just flowed.

Of course, when life throws craziness at you, and you can't write because of this issue or that one--whether it's illness or hurricane evacuation (that was Heart's Blood) or a house full of company for two weeks in the middle of the last month before deadline (Heart's Magic...)--It is important to acknowledge that Stuff Happens, and you just can't beat yourself up over it.

The thing is, there's a lot of stuff that's included in the writing process that doesn't necessarily include putting new words on the page. For some people that includes a lot of plotting. For others, that part may be minimal, but they do a lot of revising. It's all writing. It all counts. And as long as you're producing something you are pleased with and that accomplishes your personal goals--it's all good.

Oh--the picture. Did you know that looseleaf notebook paper would go through a printer? Neither did I. I recycled paper from a revision and didn't realize I had looseleaf paper stuck in the middle of some printed pages with my inserts written on it. This page I could read. Most of the others, I had to reprint...

Time for lunch.

Write fast? Write slow?

Seawall mural is looking sadly bedraggled since Ike. Wonder if they'd like volunteers to try to spruce it up...

Anyway. I have taken to checking in at Twitter, and clicking on all the referrals to articles & such until I have a whole row of tabs across the top of my Firefox. And when I have a minute more, I read them all. And now I can't remember which one I read that made me think.

It was an interview with Ron Charles, who is an editor and book critic with the Washington Post and just won an award. He sounded like a fascinating man (especially since they have been trying to find a Romance novel reviewer who doesn't write things like "If you like this kind of crap..."), and I found the interview interesting. But there was one thing that tweaked a few thoughts. I've thought this before, but I don't know that I've blogged about it before. If I have, and you read it, forgive me, and skip down to the beach report.

He mentioned how he tried to be respectful of the fact that the novelist might have poured the past 8 years of his or her life onto the book when he reviewed it. And I got to thinking about a writer's pace of writing.

There are a lot of folks out there who think that a book more slowly written must inevitably be a better book than one written quickly, all subjectivity set aside. I do not agree. Furthermore, I have a sneaking suspicion that if a person takes 8 years to finish a book? They were doing a whole lot of other stuff (most likely a day job) while they were writing that book.

I have a book I'm working on that I have been working on since, oh--1981, or earlier. I'm still not finished with it. But I have not been writing on the book every day of that time. I decided, back in '81 or so, that I did not have the craft and skills to write the book at that time, since it had a complicated plot, would have to be told in flashback, and had a difficult character to write. So I set it aside for about 20 years.

In the intervening time, I have written 5 or 6 books which will never see the light of day. I have written 8 more, which have or will be published by various publishers. It's not like I haven't been writing. I just haven't been actively writing on THAT book.

If I count only the time in which I have been actually writing and researching Thunder in a Cloudless Sky (working title), I've probably been working on it 6 or 7 months.

I don't consider myself a fast writer. I can't whip out a draft in a week. Or even 2 weeks. Or a month. But. I do write an average of 6 pages a day, which is faster than the 1 page a day book in a year that some writers manage. And I don't write multiple drafts. My first draft is pretty darn close to the final version. I might add a scene. More likely I've cut several scenes (I tend to write long.) and reworked it to smooth things out. I've probably cut and smoothed some dialogue. Corrected grammar and typos. Fixed inconsistencies here and there--like changing eye-color, or minor character names. And that's about it. I prefer the "all at once" method.

Still, despite all that, it does not take me 8 years to write a book. Even Thunder, which is a huge book, will not actually take me that much time to write. I posted here last week: it took me 10 weeks, 2-1/2 months, to write 450 pages. And I don't even spend all day writing. I do my composing/drafting in the mornings, then I do other stuff--PR, e-mails, blogging, etc.--in the afternoon. I do it this way because I have found that I tend to fall asleep over the desk if I try to draft in the afternoon. I just have a sinking spell, as my Great Aunt Jessie put it, about that time. So I get those 6 pages written in half a day.

Other award winning authors write faster than I do. Some write slower. The thing is--how you write is how you write. Faster does not necessarily equal better. Nor does slower. Working eight years on a book (or six, as in Dan Brown & The Lost Symbol) does not mean it's going to be a masterpiece. It might be a darn good read. But it might not.

Personally, I think I write better when I write faster, because I keep my head in the story. I'm more immersed in the story world. I do not think about it all the time. I think it's better to shove everything back into the swamp where my stories live, and ignore them, until it's time to pull things out again to go to work. The swamp does a better job, most times, of letting the right stuff bubble up when I need it than if I actively think about it. I might think a little bit if I'm working morning pages a la The Artist's Way, but mostly, I don't. The subconscious is smarter than I am about a lot of things.

In the end, I am still skeptical of those people who claim to write full time for years to produce a single book. I just find it hard to believe they're writing all that time. If I took six years--or five, or two--or even one--to write a book, you can bet that a whole lot of that time would be spent doing other stuff.

I'm not saying it's wrong to write slowly. Your process is your process, just like mine is the weird thing it is. I just have trouble comprehending what they're doing with all that time...

Because, you know, if you write just one page a day, at the end of a year, you have enough pages for a book. I wrote a whole hour & a half today, and got TWO pages. And they were synopsis pages, which, as we all know, counts the same as Four pages of story, because it's twice as hard to write a synopsis...

Beach report: Yep, went out to the beach to walk. Went late, at 9 a.m. instead of 8. Sun was bright and hot, humidity is heavy enough to make the windows of my house sweat all day. Temp about 82 F/28 C, but it felt hotter because of the sun & humidity. The water was pretty surfy today. More waves than we've had lately, white water all the way out past the jetties. The seafoam was white. When I went out Saturday, it was kind of greenish. Weird.

It was still a nice walk. I found a big, pretty shell. Will try to remember to take a pic of it soon. Met a cute little dog. (Did Not take Dolly.) Not many birds out that late, but lots of little crabs were digging the sand out of their holes. Didn't see any cool crab footprints though...

Better go put food on to cook.

Lifelines - or How To Keep Going

The princess wussy dog and I went for a walk this a.m. She makes me walk faster, so I get more out of it. I intended just to walk on the seawall (I have to wear actual shoes when I'm walking with her from the house--too far in flipflops) but she was a good dog--didn't bother any of the people while we were out walking, and she kept looking over the edge of the seawall. She hasn't jumped off since that first time. I imagine the 10-12 foot drop gave her pause. So we went down the stairs and walked back along the water. She was very good then too--did not slip her collar to chase birds and did not upset the small children by going too close. It was a beautiful morning for a walk, cool & breezy. (Cool for Galveston = hot for many other places. It's probably 80F/27C) I threw in this picture of the "Do Not Swim Too Close To the Jetties" signs because I thought they looked festive with their red and yellow floats on the ropes--but you can't really see them in the picture. Oh well.

Walking on the beach is one of the things I really enjoy about living here. We can walk from the house (which we never do with the grandkids, because we don't want them to know just how close it is), or drive up and save the walking up time for beach time. I was going to use that as a segue from talking about my beach walk to talking about lifelines in writing--but I can't figure out quite how to do it. Except that writers have to do non writing things to "fill the well" that the writing comes out of, and walking on the beach is one of the things I do.

Now, I am going to talk about those Lifelines mentioned by Ali Hale. She talked about how lifelines are other people who keep the writer honest. They keep us writing and working toward the goal of finishing a longer work, so that we keep writing those 10 pages a day, or 6 pages, or 2 pages. (There have been times that I struggled just to get a half page written.)

She mentioned writing critique groups, online or in person. And critique groups are great. I belonged to a fabulous group in Waco about 15 years ago, before I moved away from the area. Of the first 5 members, four of us have been published. I do believe in critique groups. The problem is, not everybody can find one where they live. I moved from my small town near Waco (I lived about 30-45 miles (48-73 km) out of town) to an even smaller town in the Texas panhandle, about 60 m (97 km) from Amarillo, the nearest city. No critique groups available. There are online crit groups that work very well for some people. I've never been able to make them work for me, because so far, nobody in any group I've tried to participate with has been consistent in either critiquing or writing. Which kind of defeats the purpose of a lifeline.

See, a lifeline is a form of accountability for those deadlines. When you set your own deadlines, there's no penalty if you don't make them, except maybe guilt, and getting down on yourself. However, if you're producing 10 pages a week for your crit group, and they expect those 10 pages, (we met every other week, and shared 20 pages each time) you work harder to get them done.

That said, a critique group, for all that I love them and would love to have one again, is not the only kind of lifeline there is. The past 3 years, I have had a Goals Coach.

Back in 2006 I took an online class by Gwen Shuster-Haynes on creating a writing career plan for introverts and extroverts through the Kiss of Death mystery/suspense chapter of Romance Writers of America. I got a lot out of this class--I took it, I think, just before my publication contract with the LUNA imprint of Harlequin got canceled, and it really helped me organize myself and keep moving forward. Anyway, one of the things I got was the idea of a goals or career coach.

How this works, or how it's worked for me, is that I teamed up with another person, we wrote down our goals for the week every Monday (or as close to Monday as I could manage), e-mailed them to each other, and then the next Monday, when we e-mailed our next set of goals, checked off what we managed to get done in the last week's goals. My first Coach was Shari Bouillion, (I may have added or left out an I in there) who insisted we work out yearly and quarterly goals with dates. (I tend to be real wishy-washy about dates.) And that we include family, work, writing, and spiritual/personal goals. It's obvious she was MUCH better at this goals coaching thing than I am. We coached each other for over a year, and her life got so complicated, she had to drop out.

I was bereft! I still wrote up my goals every week, and printed them out and stood them up on my lamp where I can see them if I ever get stuck with what else I need to do, but it's not the same if you don't have somebody to be a bit of a nudge. I limped along on my own for a while, when on an e-mail loop I'm on, someone asked about how to keep going through the end. So I did my goals coach pitch on the loop, and asked if anyone was interested, and now we have a 3-way goals coaching group going between myself, Natasha Moore who writes for Red Sage Publishing, and Carol Stephenson, who is one of those right on the verge of publication, that last frustrating phase before you finally make it over that final hump.

Natasha has very short goals lists. She confines hers to just writing. Carol prioritizes hers. She has a Must Finish section--which are not all writing goals--and a Priority 2 section which is "If I have Time & Energy." I put all my goals in one long list, but the ones at the top of the list are top priority, and the ones at the bottom are lower. (I need to move "Exercise" higher on the list!) And it's time to nag them (though usually it's Carol that does it) to post some goals for the last quarter of the year.

We don't critique. We all write Very different things. We write at different paces. Sometimes, we don't post any goals for a week or two. I tend to disappear when we have company (friends & family love to come visit us at the beach). Carol moved house a while back and is still dealing with that. Natasha goes on RV trips. (Jealous!) But we come back when we need to, because it's a way of keeping ourselves on track.

It seems to work best in a smaller group. We could probably add one or two more, but I don't know that I'd go higher than four.

So. There you have it--another kind of lifeline for writers to stay on track. If you have a critique group that's working for you, great! But if you don't, you might try finding one or two other people who can help keep you on track by exchanging weekly goals.

The Book Is In - Deadlines

This is what my office looked like right after I finished putting all the revisions into the ms. and e-mailed it to the editor. Do you see anywhere else handy for me to put the pages after I finish putting stuff in??? Neither do I. The floor works. That hump? The one that's not a leg of the chair... That's my purse. It's under there somewhere.

I did pick up all the papers today. The floor looks much better. And HEART'S MAGIC is turned in. On time. Sort of.

I wrote 448 pp. in 10 weeks, with a couple of weeks of lots of company in there. So maybe, it was more like 9 weeks. (I did get some done while they were here. Just not a whole lot.)

Which I guess really leads me back around to my riff on Deadlines.

Deadlines are really helpful. REALLY. If you want to write a story/book/memoir/whatever--and you don't have a deadline? Get one.

I am the world's greatest procrastinator. Just ask the people who know me. Self-imposed deadlines don't work as well on those of us with this issue, but they do help. I would not blog here even the once a week I usually manage if I didn't make it a deadline, that I WILL blog at least Once in a week. Monday is a soft deadline. Friday is the harder deadline--and sometimes I miss that one. But not often.

It's really better if you can get somebody else to give you the deadline. I have a college degree in journalism. That's when I learned about deadlines, and that you really can crank out 500 words in 30 minutes, if you have the information. An hour is better, but it IS possible to do it faster if you have to. Those deadlines that somebody else gives you? Those are the ones you HAVE to make.

On the other hand, sometimes life happens. Or books refuse to gel. This is particularly bad if you have a deadline set by somebody else, and they are counting on having that book. You Need to tell your editor--the somebody else--that there may be issues.

Early in July, I had a bad feeling about The Book That Became Heart's Magic. I was writing and writing, and getting absolutely NOWHERE. It had no structure. Individual scenes were pretty good, but as a whole, it sucked swampwater. So I talked to the agent, who talked to the editor, who said "Sure. We can back the deadline up a month." I figured that would be what it would take to get it nailed down and finished. So I got an extra month, and I needed every bit of it. I got my deadline extended. But I finished it by that deadline.

I have entered contests that required a book to be finished for entry--okay, it was RWA's Golden Heart contest. Once, I entered with a book that was little more than a 5-page synopsis. I took the days left till the entry had to be turned in, divided the pages to be written by the number of days, and figured out how many pages I had to write per day to get it done. (I've been pretty much stuck at 6 pp per day since. I'd really like to get that up...) I'd paid my money. I had to finish the book by that deadline. And I did. (Didn't make the finals. I've Never made the finals in the Golden Heart Contest. Never won an "unpublished ms" contest, either. So you don't have to, to get published. Doesn't hurt, but isn't necessary.) Anyway--contests are another good way to acquire a deadline that is more than just your own "I really need to have it finished by X" because those are really the deadlines that can go whooshing by.

So, yeah. I believe in deadlines. And setting goals and all that kind of stuff. They work.

And next, I will riff on lifelines. Later.

Fuzzy outlines

Picture: The dolphin statue at Fort Crockett Park on the seawall. Hurricane Ike washed out the sand and rocks supporting the concrete here, and you see the result. They're going to be re-doing it sometime in the sort of near future, so I wanted to get a picture of it in its deconstruction. You can see how so much was knocked down and around and, well, ruined... and hasn't been fixed yet.

Mostly I write blogs about my life. Because I don't often think profound thoughts, or if I do, I'm nowhere near a computer and by the time I reach mine, I have forgotten what I thought of. I forget to write the thought down anywhere else too, like my "notebook-o-lists" or whatever else I might have.

Anyway, a lot of times, thoughts are springboarded from other blogs, which I haven't been reading much, while I have been in the deadline cave (and with it being so cloudy outside, Boy is it Cavelike today). But I read one today. It's a week or two old, and it's a good blog by one Ali Hale on Three Words That Will Help You Finish Any Writing Project.

Her words--which I am now going to take and riff on--are: Outline, Deadline, and Lifeline.

Ali apparently mostly writes short things. Articles, blog posts, that sort of thing.

I suck at writing short things, except for blog posts (and even then they tend to be long) and newspaper columns. Mostly I write novels. I just finished (on Saturday!) my 8th.

The process has taught me yet again, the importance of these three things.

FYI, I hate those outline things we had to do back in school, with the Roman numerals and letters and numbers and such. But I really discovered with this book, Heart's Magic, when I was struggling so hard with the plot, that I cannot just fly into the mist. I have to have something.

I've used a lot of different frameworks for outlining. The Hero's Journey (from Christopher Vogler's The Writer's Journey); Syd Fields' turning points method. I had just bought Save the Cat by Blake Snyder when I learned I didn't have to complete the entire story cycle in HM and pulled out the extra book's worth of plot, so I used his outline format. Pretty much the same as the others, but a little different way of thinking, which seemed to unstick me.

All I had, when I started putting the story back together, was one page of notes. One loose-leaf notebook page, one side only. It's not particularly neat. In some places, all I had was a question mark, that I filled in with a tiny note later. That didn't even turn out to be what I did in that slot. And later, I did add another sheet (of printer paper) where I wrote down scenes that could fit in each section. (these are my pages-the scene list on left, & "outline" on the right) I didn't put all of those in. But whenever I got stuck, I had that page in my file folder that I could look at and see where I might/needed to go next.

I essentially wrote this book in 10 weeks, people. I struggled with it for twice that long. Because I didn't have a decent outline. (Which was because I was trying to squeeze too much in.) There are some people who can't work from an outline. I don't know many of them, and I now know that I am definitely one of them. It's not much of an outline. Fuzzy and amorphous-blob outlines will work too. But they're outlines.

I'm going to have to riff on Deadlines & Lifelines another day... Have to go work. My deadline is tomorrow. Plan to e-mail it today.

Blogging while Printing

I am printing out the book now, and have to babysit the printer, in case the ink runs out, or the paper runs out, or it jams. So I figured I would blog while I printed.

I print the ms out to revise, because I miss less stuff that way. Problem is, it's printing back to front, so I can't start reading it from the beginning, (which is where you need to start, if you're reading for continuity) until it finishes. Oh well.

I went for a walk this a.m., actually climbed down the steps to walk on the beach, in the water, and got out there before 8. (Usually I'm a little after.) I had to wait for a lot of traffic to pass before I could get out of the car, because I was so early. (I don't like walking long distances in flipflops, and I wanted to walk in the water, so I drove. If you can follow my logic here.) And the first thing I saw when I got out on the seawall was these guys here, lying on the bare pink granite of the jetty, (hold on--paper reload) exercising.

I thought at first they might be some of the beach patrol lifeguards, but they never got in the water, and the guards always swim as part of their workout. Plus, they usually work out carrying those floaty lifesaver belts. Now I'm thinking these guys might be part of a Marine reserve detachment that got back from Iraq on Monday, running to stay in shape.

It's still cloudy this a.m. There was just that one line of pink-tinged sky while I was out. Lots of wind blowing onshore, making a fair bit of surf. (We never have a LOT.) Water's green almost all the way in--means good fishing.

I did see all the usual culprits in the bird kingdom while I was out. Laughing gulls, all white-headed since it's fall. They were already mostly white-headed in August, though. (They have black heads during mating season.) There were willets and a couple of sanderlings (tall and short sandpiper birds, respectively). I saw cormorants and pelicans fishing. But I was very excited to see not just one snowy egret, but two out surf fishing.

You can just see, I think, on the legs of the single egret, that they turn yellow about halfway down. That's the snowy's "golden slippers." The original egret, in the first pic, is the one in the back in the other pic. Don't know if they're parent/child or "just friends."

Another stop for putting in more paper. Had to go get more out of the box. I'm almost out of paper to recycle...you know, print on the back after it's been printed on the front.

I have to fill in some more here, because I'm having trouble fitting all the pictures in, and I wanted to show you the picture of the TWO egrets. They don't come to the beach side of the island very often, though I've seen them a lot over by the bay and port. They like to perch on the lines tying boats up to the docks, and watch the fish. I don't know that I've ever seen one jump off into the water to catch one, though.

And there is my foot in the water. See? I was out there, walking, in the water with no shoes. The water's still very warm, and it was nice and cool with the strong breeze. Humidity was still about 900%, but that's pretty much a given. It's an island.

And this is my other foot, in its flipflop, crossing the pink granite jetty--the one west of the one the guys were exercising on. I picked this particular rock to stick my foot on, because it's Very red. The rocks are all shades of pink, but they are all pink. Makes it purty. You will note the crevices between rocks. Some are larger than others. These rocks have had sand piled on them, so their crevices aren't deep, but I have lost my whole leg down one of those things... Not like broke it off or anything-- (look! They're still attached), but like--sank it up to my hip in a crevice. One closer to the water, right after they piled sand on top and the water washed it out underneath...

Almost all of the ms. is printed out now, and I'm just driveling on. I do have more pictures, but I'm having trouble squeezing them all in. The "preview" doesn't really show how they will actually come through on the blog, so I'm going to have to post and edit, post and edit, I think.

I have more. Will definitely post them. Or maybe will post them on my twitter thing. Come by and tweet me. I'm @GailDayton

Official Title for Harry & Elinor

It is official. The editor and I have just agreed. The title of this new book in my blood magic Victorian steampunk series, the one starring Harry & Elinor, will be HEART'S MAGIC. Because that's the kind of magic that brings about the happy ending...

Also, Twitter is very bad for me.

I am there, since ... Tuesday? I think so. Look for me. GailDayton. One word. Easy-peasy.

Have to go kill the Monster-Kitty!!

First time in four years

I'm excited. It may seem dumb, but I'm excited anyway.

For the first time in four years, I have entered the Romance Writers of America RITA contest. It may be longer than that...more like 6 years. But it may not be. You all do understand that math is not my strong suit, even when it comes to simple math like counting stuff.

I entered my first two published books--my Silhouette Desires--in the RITAs. (Why is it in all caps? Is there a reason? I don't know.) And made the finals for Best First Book the first year I entered. No, I did not win. But I finaled. I cling to that, on the bad days.

Anyway, the reason I haven't entered in a while is because I didn't really consider the Rose books, the three books I wrote before New Blood, to be romance. They were romantic, but not really romance. I know I could have entered them in the "Novel with Romantic Elements" category, but I'm kind of in the camp of "It's Romance Writers of America. Why have a category that isn't romance in the RITA, which is to recognize romance novels?" So I didn't enter partly out of principal, and partly because I didn't really think the books would do that well against all the women's fiction, suspense and urban fantasy books in the category. Yeah, I'm a coward.

I did enter the books in the Prism Awards, which are for romantic fantasy, futuristic and paranormal books--in other words, a contest where the judges would be people who prefer the kind of books the Rose books were. And I won my category twice, and came in second the third time. (Actually the first time. The Compass Rose came in second to The Smoke Thief. The other two won.) I cling to this too. And yeah, this is kind of sounding like a "Shameless Bragging" post. Sorry about that.

But New Blood is a romance. Unabashedly. I even got a review that complained about all the mushy romance in it. (I bask in that review, because--you know--that's what it was supposed to be.) So this year, since it's eligible, I entered. I mailed off the copies of the book this afternoon. Right now, everything is all possibility. I'm going to enjoy the moment while trying not to build up expectations. I have no expectations. Hopes, maybe, but no expectations.

I'm going to try to post a picture with every blog post. So I went out Monday with the camera to walk along the seawall, and take a bunch of pictures I could use in case I don't get around to taking a fresh picture every week. This is just a shot of the beach from the top of the seawall, looking toward Fort Crockett Park.

Yeah, yeah, so it's tough to remember to take them, and it's tough to remember to download them. It took me 3 days to find the connector cord. (In my nightstand, but in the top drawer...)

I also took all the pictures off the camera and put them on my firefly flash drive because the fella has not been downloading the pictures to his computer either, and I'm sick of un-checking each picture one at a time (it won't do multiple unchecks, unless I want to uncheck ALL) so I only download the new ones. He can just take them off the firefly. Okay. That is my rant for the week.

Back to typing. I am up to p. 381. Having to make notes to make my monsters scarier...

Posted Elsewhere

I will post a separate blog here, as soon as I find/remember where I put the cord to download pictures from my new camera. Meanwhile, I posted a blog at the 2 B Read authors blogsite. Check it out!

Still plodding, after all these...weeks

Last week, it rained. Every day. For most of the day. A lot. It was great, since we've been in something of a drought. There are mushrooms sprouting all over the neighborhood. There were a few days I had trouble getting much writing done, because it was dark and raining and it made me sleepy. (Of course, staying up late goofing off didn't help any.)

I think I'm in a better swing of things now, finally. Should have been here earlier, but it's working now, and ought to come in right on deadline. I'm into the final battle. Hoping the heroine hasn't repeated herself too terribly much--I'm going to have to print it all out and go back through and check on that... I think I'm going to raise hope, and then dash it again, oh--two or three times. (maybe) I just keep trying to figure out how to raise the stakes higher. I don't feel like they're high enough yet, so I'll goose them again. Elinor's being a horse's patoot at the moment, actually. Somebody's going to have to knock her upside the head, I think. Maybe Harry. Maybe Nigel. Maybe... well, we will see. I just need to make sure she's not being a repetitious horse's patoot. :)

I did go hit the sales at Macy's yesterday, before the local RWA chapter meeting, and spent my birthday money. They were having some pretty good sales--I got three shirts and a pair of dressy black pants for just over $50. (I paid the tax.) I have clothes to wear. I wanted to go to another store to buy a pair of jeans--I went, but they didn't have any that were long enough. Maybe next time.

I'll have to get somebody to take my picture in my new "finery" so I can show you. I was going to post a picture, but I don't have any new ones. I don't think I can do a "take a picture every day" thing, but surely I can manage "take a picture once a week." Then I'd have to download it, though... I'll try.

Off to type in story.

Plodder's Progress

I am a plodder. This has nothing to do with plotting, mind--though it sounds a lot alike when spoken aloud. And plotting issues can make me plod slower than usual--but my point is that in my writing, I am a tortoise, rather than a hare. I get the most done when I sit down every day and just keep plugging.

That said, the plodding and plugging is coming along nicely. I've hit the "All Is Lost" moment. The bad guys have struck back. The hero has inserted his foot in his mouth and done himself in. The heroine is throwing hissy fits. And it's time for me to figure out how to get them down to the grand finale, catch at least most of the bad guys and win the day. I mostly know what will happen, but I'm not quite sure how I'm going to maneuver them into the situation where it can happen. I know what the closing scene will be too. It's just moving really slow right this minute. But it's moving. It's pretty much on schedule to finish on time. By hook or by crook. I just have to keep plodding along...

Want to share a picture that amused me. The grownups played Twister at the beach house last month. It was funny. :)

I've been a total slug this past week. It has been wonderful. We did go do some shopping. Since the fella's birthday was last Monday (we went to the Saltwater Grill for his birthday--I had barbecued redfish. Yum.), and mine is today (happy birthday to me--I am now officially a senior citizen, sigh), we went out yesterday to get our birthday present. When we bought our new sofa, the designer at the store showed us a lamp table we really liked, which we didn't buy then. We bought it yesterday. Who knows when it will be delivered, but it will be beautimous, whenever it gets here.

We also bought a new amp for the keyboard, because the sound system went out at church last week, and the fella's keyboard went totally silent. It's not a big amp, light enough to carry, and has extra channels to plug in mikes if we need to. Then we hit the Labor Day sales at the mall--I got a T-shirt, a pair of pants and some shorts. The fella got a suit, dress shirts and two Hawaiian shirts, all on sale. I'd think he got more for my birthday than I did, but really, it was just stuff he needed. (Hawaiian shirts are almost required dress here.)

I get to have dinner out tonight--haven't quite decided where to go. Fisherman's Wharf maybe. I'll try to remember to tell y'all where.

Dolly is a very, very good dog, yes. She is also the wussiest princess dog in the state. We had a rainstorm this morning. We've been letting her in at night, so if she escapes the fence, we don't have to go find her at 4 a.m. I let her out this morning after the sun came out again, and the ground was all wet and puddly. She walked with me to take the trash out front--and when I was heading back in the house, she ran in ahead of me and went to her cubby hole. She didn't want to stay out in all that wet! And I'm the softest touch in the state, because I let her come in. Sigh.

Back to work. Y'all have fun.