Where I Am: at home in my favorite chair
What I'm Listening To: Blessed Silence
Amazing. It's amazing to me the way time passes. Someday, I'm going to unravel the mysteries of how it is that time, which I know to be relative (thank you, Dr. Einstein), doesn't seem to relate to me. Harumph.
What this means is, I don't know where it went. Time marched on, apparently right past me, and here we are on the last day of April and I honestly don't know how it all happened. Whoof.
Anyway...
I do have an excuse for being sort of lost. I have completed the draft of If It Walks Like a Duck and I am hugely excited about this. WOO! I'm currently working on editing which is daunting but also gratifying. It feels good to be cleaning up the messy parts and turning convoluted margin notes into clean text. But I am trying to keep things in perspective. I have a long way to go.
Ever mindful of the future, I've been encouraging myself with ideas of Ellen Keely's next adventure. See, I'm really hoping that by the time people finish reading about Ellen's first foray into the world of mystery, they will be as eager as I am to find out what she will do next. To that end, while my conscious mind is working through knotty problems in the Duck draft, my subsconcious is having a bit of fun with early details of what it has, for the moment, named Dead In Dog Years, the second installment of the Ellen Keely mysteries.
Exciting, no?
I'd love to stay and chat, but I have some editing I'm eager to get done today. Let's meet again soon. :P
Friday, April 30, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
The Importance of Being Careful
Where Am I: favorite chair
Listening To: coverage on the latest in Haiti
Proofreading. We all know this is a good idea, yeah? We're careful about this, aren't we? Sure! Honest! I'm careful. CAREFUL! Well, except for that one short short I sent in to the Writer's Digest "Your Story" competition last week. I thought I'd done such a good job, too. I stayed true to their prompt, was well within the word limit and I even felt pretty pleased about how clever I'd been with the plot. So, what was my downfall? The title brought me low.
I generally get my title for whatever I'm writing late in the process. In this case, I really didn't have a title when I'd finished. So, I sat staring at it and thinking about it for awhile, put it away, brought it back out and looked at it some more. Finally, I put a title to it (nothing overly inspired, I'm sad to say) and sent it off with a feeling of relief that I'd done it. It wasn't until later that I noticed there was a TYPO IN MY TITLE!
It wasn't the sort of thing that the spell-checker would catch and I just wasn't careful enough. I didn't catch it either. I could make some excuses, I suppose, but that's all they'd be. Excuses. The truth is, I blew it. I broke one of the most basic rules. I just didn't proofread properly. I think it is very likely that it will keep anyone from even considering my otherwise (hopefully) clever story.
Lesson learned, believe me. Lesson most definitely learned. If I was reasonably careful before, I will be trebly so, now. Attention to detail is so important for a writer. So many things depend on the writer's accuracy, you know? For the reader, inconsistencies and mistakes are so distracting. They take the reader out of the story and really, that's the death of a good tale, in my humble opinion.
So, I have learned another important, albeit painful, lesson on being meticulous. I guess that's not really so bad.
Listening To: coverage on the latest in Haiti
Proofreading. We all know this is a good idea, yeah? We're careful about this, aren't we? Sure! Honest! I'm careful. CAREFUL! Well, except for that one short short I sent in to the Writer's Digest "Your Story" competition last week. I thought I'd done such a good job, too. I stayed true to their prompt, was well within the word limit and I even felt pretty pleased about how clever I'd been with the plot. So, what was my downfall? The title brought me low.
I generally get my title for whatever I'm writing late in the process. In this case, I really didn't have a title when I'd finished. So, I sat staring at it and thinking about it for awhile, put it away, brought it back out and looked at it some more. Finally, I put a title to it (nothing overly inspired, I'm sad to say) and sent it off with a feeling of relief that I'd done it. It wasn't until later that I noticed there was a TYPO IN MY TITLE!
It wasn't the sort of thing that the spell-checker would catch and I just wasn't careful enough. I didn't catch it either. I could make some excuses, I suppose, but that's all they'd be. Excuses. The truth is, I blew it. I broke one of the most basic rules. I just didn't proofread properly. I think it is very likely that it will keep anyone from even considering my otherwise (hopefully) clever story.
Lesson learned, believe me. Lesson most definitely learned. If I was reasonably careful before, I will be trebly so, now. Attention to detail is so important for a writer. So many things depend on the writer's accuracy, you know? For the reader, inconsistencies and mistakes are so distracting. They take the reader out of the story and really, that's the death of a good tale, in my humble opinion.
So, I have learned another important, albeit painful, lesson on being meticulous. I guess that's not really so bad.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
I need a brain snake.
Where I Am: In the dining room, supervising math homework
Listening To: Homework woes and funny things that happened at school today
I really do need a brain snake. I don't mean the sort of snake that hisses, eats mice, and occasionally sheds its skin. I mean one of those flexible metal coiled metal snakes that you use to clear out a blocked pipe. I need one of those for my brain.
I don't think I actually have writer's block. I know there are those who don't believe there is such a thing, in the first place. I don't know. If there is, I don't think that's my problem. I have a pretty detailed outline of my novel, honestly. I know what I need and want to write. I'm feeling pretty good about where I am in the story and where I'm going. I'm pleased about the length, I love my characters, and I'm just generally pretty happy with the whole thing. However, I seem totally unable to get anything written. I don't think it's a block so much as a clog. So, how do I get past that clog? To do that, I'm thinking I should probably know what caused the clog to form, yeah?
I wrote a blog entry a couple days ago about how I don't believe there is a magical formula that gives a writer the thick skin they need to face the criticism and rejection that is both inevitable and necessary. Yes, I said necessary. How else do we grow? I stand by what I said. I think one has to just keep putting oneself out there, take what comes, try to learn from it, and keep right on writing. The problem with my theory is that it is very easy to say and devilishly hard to do. I think this might be the source of my current clog.
The first draft of my first novel is nearing completion after a long, hard slog. My poor, long-suffering main character has had to try to fit herself into no fewer than four very different storylines. Poor Ellen. I've taken her and her best friends through a lot of things and I'm going to have to rough her up still more before there is resolution for her. I've worked on this story for such a long time, I'm having trouble getting my head around what it will be like when I actually finish. I'm going to have to edit. Eep! I'm both eager to begin and dreading what I might have to do. Then, even after I slog through the editing, I must face the query process. This is where that writer's version of stage fright rears its ugly head.
What does this have to do with me right now? Well, I tend to be a forward thinker. I like to look ahead and have a plan. So, I've looked ahead and, people, it's giving me a serious case of the gollywobbles. Should it? No, of course not. Am I wrong to worry? Eh, not really. You can't be rational about this sort of thing. It does make me think of a former employer and his all-time favorite advice about any difficult situation.
"Just show up."
I have to set the obsessing aside, show up, and write. I'm going to have to put my head down and forge ahead. I'm going to have to write blog posts (though that's really a pleasure), play with different prompts, and keep plugging away at my novel. I may have to throw out whole pages of text but I'm going to have to keep going. At some point, I'll write something that makes me proud. I have before and I will again. I'll work through the nerves eventually and when I do, the story will flow again.
In the meantime, I sure wish there really was a brain snake.
Listening To: Homework woes and funny things that happened at school today
I really do need a brain snake. I don't mean the sort of snake that hisses, eats mice, and occasionally sheds its skin. I mean one of those flexible metal coiled metal snakes that you use to clear out a blocked pipe. I need one of those for my brain.
I don't think I actually have writer's block. I know there are those who don't believe there is such a thing, in the first place. I don't know. If there is, I don't think that's my problem. I have a pretty detailed outline of my novel, honestly. I know what I need and want to write. I'm feeling pretty good about where I am in the story and where I'm going. I'm pleased about the length, I love my characters, and I'm just generally pretty happy with the whole thing. However, I seem totally unable to get anything written. I don't think it's a block so much as a clog. So, how do I get past that clog? To do that, I'm thinking I should probably know what caused the clog to form, yeah?
I wrote a blog entry a couple days ago about how I don't believe there is a magical formula that gives a writer the thick skin they need to face the criticism and rejection that is both inevitable and necessary. Yes, I said necessary. How else do we grow? I stand by what I said. I think one has to just keep putting oneself out there, take what comes, try to learn from it, and keep right on writing. The problem with my theory is that it is very easy to say and devilishly hard to do. I think this might be the source of my current clog.
The first draft of my first novel is nearing completion after a long, hard slog. My poor, long-suffering main character has had to try to fit herself into no fewer than four very different storylines. Poor Ellen. I've taken her and her best friends through a lot of things and I'm going to have to rough her up still more before there is resolution for her. I've worked on this story for such a long time, I'm having trouble getting my head around what it will be like when I actually finish. I'm going to have to edit. Eep! I'm both eager to begin and dreading what I might have to do. Then, even after I slog through the editing, I must face the query process. This is where that writer's version of stage fright rears its ugly head.
What does this have to do with me right now? Well, I tend to be a forward thinker. I like to look ahead and have a plan. So, I've looked ahead and, people, it's giving me a serious case of the gollywobbles. Should it? No, of course not. Am I wrong to worry? Eh, not really. You can't be rational about this sort of thing. It does make me think of a former employer and his all-time favorite advice about any difficult situation.
"Just show up."
I have to set the obsessing aside, show up, and write. I'm going to have to put my head down and forge ahead. I'm going to have to write blog posts (though that's really a pleasure), play with different prompts, and keep plugging away at my novel. I may have to throw out whole pages of text but I'm going to have to keep going. At some point, I'll write something that makes me proud. I have before and I will again. I'll work through the nerves eventually and when I do, the story will flow again.
In the meantime, I sure wish there really was a brain snake.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Eye of Newt and Hide of Rhino
Where Am I: Home in my favorite chair
Listening To: The lower decible sounds of my home - small mutterings from the parrot, crunching sounds from the guinea pig, hum of the HEPA filter, tick of the clock...
I was chatting with my best writing buddy the other evening. She has reached that enviable stage of sending queries to agents. This, naturally, is HUGELY exciting and, yes, I am a lovely shade of puce over the whole thing. Mostly, however, I'm excited. Such a lot of hours and so much energy has gone into her novel (a very clever historical fiction, by the way) and I really can't wait to hear how much the agents love it. You see, I know they will. She, on the other hand, seems less confident. I guess that isn't surprising. In fact, she likened it to sending her first born off to catch the bus on the very first day of school. She also mentioned feeling more than a little queasy. So much for that sense of accomplishment, huh?
That isn't to say, though, that she isn't excited. She definitely is. But she is having a serious case of nerves that amounts to the writer's equivalent of stage fright. Who can blame her? She has put herself right out there and asked to be told what professionals think of her work. Ack! How can a writer not be nervous? It did get me thinking about taking that risk and how to deal with the rejection slips that all writers get. I've had a few, myself, already since I have sent out a few short stories to magazines. They currently reside in a file drawer where theyboth haunt me and fill me with accomplishment. On the one hand, I did send something out. I'm proud of that. On the other, I still see the fact that they didn't want my story and that always comes with a low-murmured, "Ouch."
How many times have we been advised to develop a thick skin if we want to be successful writers? I've lost count. It's still sound advice and I do try but it has always seemed a very difficult and magical transformation. But I think I'm beginning to get it now.
It isn't so much a case of developing a thicker skin as it is a case of earning the battle scars that come from putting yourself out there. It isn't rhino skin. It's scar tissue. There really isn't a magical formula for that, now is there?
Listening To: The lower decible sounds of my home - small mutterings from the parrot, crunching sounds from the guinea pig, hum of the HEPA filter, tick of the clock...
I was chatting with my best writing buddy the other evening. She has reached that enviable stage of sending queries to agents. This, naturally, is HUGELY exciting and, yes, I am a lovely shade of puce over the whole thing. Mostly, however, I'm excited. Such a lot of hours and so much energy has gone into her novel (a very clever historical fiction, by the way) and I really can't wait to hear how much the agents love it. You see, I know they will. She, on the other hand, seems less confident. I guess that isn't surprising. In fact, she likened it to sending her first born off to catch the bus on the very first day of school. She also mentioned feeling more than a little queasy. So much for that sense of accomplishment, huh?
That isn't to say, though, that she isn't excited. She definitely is. But she is having a serious case of nerves that amounts to the writer's equivalent of stage fright. Who can blame her? She has put herself right out there and asked to be told what professionals think of her work. Ack! How can a writer not be nervous? It did get me thinking about taking that risk and how to deal with the rejection slips that all writers get. I've had a few, myself, already since I have sent out a few short stories to magazines. They currently reside in a file drawer where theyboth haunt me and fill me with accomplishment. On the one hand, I did send something out. I'm proud of that. On the other, I still see the fact that they didn't want my story and that always comes with a low-murmured, "Ouch."
How many times have we been advised to develop a thick skin if we want to be successful writers? I've lost count. It's still sound advice and I do try but it has always seemed a very difficult and magical transformation. But I think I'm beginning to get it now.
It isn't so much a case of developing a thicker skin as it is a case of earning the battle scars that come from putting yourself out there. It isn't rhino skin. It's scar tissue. There really isn't a magical formula for that, now is there?
Monday, December 28, 2009
While I have kept an online journal for several years now, it's purpose was strictly social. It was a way of staying in touch with a number of people scattered across the globe. I haven't had a writing journal but the value of one seems fairly clear. So, here we are.
Why am I doing this? Well, if you're reading this, it's no doubt because you're a writer, yourself. Whether it's your job, your passion or both (you fortunate person, you), you enjoy the process of fitting words together to create pictures, express all sorts of ideas, reach out to others, and so on. So, that's why I'm doing this. Join me and we'll follow this road together.
For today, I'll get started with a prompt from http://www.creativewritingprompts.com .
"The best thing in life is..."
We've been told that the best things are free, that love is all we need, and that it's all just a bowl of cherries. The sorts of things called "best" run the gamut from simple pleasures such as watching a spider spin a web on a lazy summer afternoon to absolutely enormous diamonds providing the brightest flash of bling imaginable.
There are those who judge others based on how they would complete this prompt sentence. "The best thing in life is..."
So, how does one finish the sentence? By what criteria do we filter through the many blessings of our lives to choose that one thing that would fill out that statement?
Personally, I think one would have to create a new answer for every moment of the day. What is the greatest good at one moment may have little value in the next. At 5:45 a.m., when you're first facing the thought of starting another day, would the best thing in life be a really good cup of coffee? In the evening, when the all the work that can be done has been done, is the best thing in life a half hour of conversation with the person you love best?
However, if I really had to choose only one way to complete the sentence, I think I'd have to say that the best thing in life is the knowledge that there are too many wonderful things in my life to choose only one.
Why am I doing this? Well, if you're reading this, it's no doubt because you're a writer, yourself. Whether it's your job, your passion or both (you fortunate person, you), you enjoy the process of fitting words together to create pictures, express all sorts of ideas, reach out to others, and so on. So, that's why I'm doing this. Join me and we'll follow this road together.
For today, I'll get started with a prompt from http://www.creativewritingprompts.com .
"The best thing in life is..."
We've been told that the best things are free, that love is all we need, and that it's all just a bowl of cherries. The sorts of things called "best" run the gamut from simple pleasures such as watching a spider spin a web on a lazy summer afternoon to absolutely enormous diamonds providing the brightest flash of bling imaginable.
There are those who judge others based on how they would complete this prompt sentence. "The best thing in life is..."
So, how does one finish the sentence? By what criteria do we filter through the many blessings of our lives to choose that one thing that would fill out that statement?
Personally, I think one would have to create a new answer for every moment of the day. What is the greatest good at one moment may have little value in the next. At 5:45 a.m., when you're first facing the thought of starting another day, would the best thing in life be a really good cup of coffee? In the evening, when the all the work that can be done has been done, is the best thing in life a half hour of conversation with the person you love best?
However, if I really had to choose only one way to complete the sentence, I think I'd have to say that the best thing in life is the knowledge that there are too many wonderful things in my life to choose only one.
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