Yes, that's right, just Evan. Shaerah aren't given last names, and I've never understood why Alex thinks that's such a big deal. Of course, he thinks a lot of things are big deals, when really they aren't.
Like the first day we met. His father had faked his own death, tricking Alex into inheriting me. Until that day, he didn't know Shaerah existed, and thought genetically created slaves with unique abilities were a myth. I remember what an ass he was that first day, but I blame some of his reaction to his father's lawyer, Van Holt. That albino weasel could have handled things differently, but now I realize just what kind of man he really is.
We originally thought some crazed Keeper was behind the plagues, after we found evidence of a ship taking something alien from a world we'd just discovered. That ship left a trail that went from planet to planet, never landing, but seeding the atmosphere of each one with some kind of biological agent. President Eljandro jumped at the chance to blame the plague on a made-up Keeper / Shaerah conspiracy, and put warrants out for our arrest. After some digging, and more than a few close calls, we finally found the truth, and the evidence we needed to prove it.
It was Van Holt, carrying out the last will and testament that Maker had set in motion. Really more of a doomsday scenario, to avenge his death. And on top of it all, he had President Eljandro backing him up, giving him money and protection. She used the plague to murder the other Presidents and bring the United Worlds under her rule.
Of course, our proof only ended up starting a civil war, but that's not my concern.
Alex can be stubborn, pig-headed, obstinate, impulsive and a real jerk sometimes, but he's also intelligent, brave, honorable, and has a massive capacity for taking responsibility for things, even when he shouldn't. And he's my Keeper. I know he prefers the term "friend". I still can't make him understand how a Shaerah is fundamentally better than those he's called "friend" in the past, but that's not the only thing Alex can't seem to come to grips with, so I've learned to let it slide.
In fact, I've learned a lot of things over the years we've been together. Like how to bend light around a ship in space, giving it an almost invisible shield to both sensors and the naked eye. It's a trick that's coming in handy now that we're about to steal the Ascalon back, right under the noses of the shipyard employees and maintenance workers performing upgrades on her as we speak.
It's gonna be tricky, but not nearly as hard as keeping Alex from doing something stupid.
Again.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Now I'm Hungry!
Reading Cath's blog entry blog@cathsmith.com
about where she used to live -- how she could stop along the road just about anywhere and have her pick of fresh fruits, veggies and just about anything else you could want -- instantly reminded me of the road we would take up to the mountains to our vacation property.
I was a kid in those days, and you remember odd things from your young-years, but this one memory is so vivid, I can still taste it.
Between our house and the lake (a decent 200 miles away) our route would take us through half a dozen Indian reservations, but there was one spot we came to think of it as a half-way mark that stands out in my mind. It was a fresh fruit stand in the middle of nowhere, along the Hood Canal, just a mile past the reservation's graveyard.
It was where we'd stop for a stretch, and my mom and sisters and I could use a restroom, then we'd stock up on fresh fruit like grapes, apples, melons, peaches, plums, nectarines. Mom would always have space saved in our coolers, knowing we'd be stopping here to buy the fruit we'd want for our stay (typically two weeks' worth). I loved the plums the most. The peaches were good, and grapes are a favorite of mine, but the plums ! It's really hard to get a good plum these days, and I don't now why.
But what really stays with me -- the memory that I can still, to this day, taste in my mouth -- was the smoked salmon ! Dad would head over to that section and the lady would have a package of smoked salmon opened up, to offer samples to everyone. We'd get a sample, then Dad would buy a few packages while we stood there, letting that amazing odor fill our noses and tickle the back of our throats, while the salmon -- perfectly smoked and seasoned -- would just melt in our mouths and somehow vanish down into our stomachs.
God, I can smell it now !
After a couple of years, my Dad decided to buy a smoker -- since the weekends not spent at the lake were spent out on the bay fishing for salmon. This little thing fit right into the fireplace in our living room at home, and I'm not sure what magic my Dad worked, but for days the entire house would smell of smoking fish !
It's hard to find good smoked salmon these days. Too many people season it wrong, or smoke it too long, or don't de-bone the salmon well enough. I have some co-workers who do a decent job, but nothing quite comes close to the way I remember it.
Dang you, Cath! Now I'm craving smoked salmon! And that stand doesn't exist anymore.
Well, while I deal with a craving I can't do anything about, let's see what the next blogger can do with that - here's the chain of command, just follow the blogs, check them out, and leave a comment (or two) to be polite. Next in this chain is Periodically.org Now, does anyone out there have some smoked salmon? Maybe some tofu cream cheese? Some crackers?
Anyone??
blog@cathsmith.com
My Midnight Muse
periodically.org
(The Blog Formerly Known as) Taosbound
Virtual Wordsmith
The Death Wizard Chronicles
Food History
Kappa No He
A piece in the puzzle
Sound Off Blog
Virginia Lee: I Ain't Dead Yet!
awchain
about where she used to live -- how she could stop along the road just about anywhere and have her pick of fresh fruits, veggies and just about anything else you could want -- instantly reminded me of the road we would take up to the mountains to our vacation property.
I was a kid in those days, and you remember odd things from your young-years, but this one memory is so vivid, I can still taste it.
Between our house and the lake (a decent 200 miles away) our route would take us through half a dozen Indian reservations, but there was one spot we came to think of it as a half-way mark that stands out in my mind. It was a fresh fruit stand in the middle of nowhere, along the Hood Canal, just a mile past the reservation's graveyard.
It was where we'd stop for a stretch, and my mom and sisters and I could use a restroom, then we'd stock up on fresh fruit like grapes, apples, melons, peaches, plums, nectarines. Mom would always have space saved in our coolers, knowing we'd be stopping here to buy the fruit we'd want for our stay (typically two weeks' worth). I loved the plums the most. The peaches were good, and grapes are a favorite of mine, but the plums ! It's really hard to get a good plum these days, and I don't now why.
But what really stays with me -- the memory that I can still, to this day, taste in my mouth -- was the smoked salmon ! Dad would head over to that section and the lady would have a package of smoked salmon opened up, to offer samples to everyone. We'd get a sample, then Dad would buy a few packages while we stood there, letting that amazing odor fill our noses and tickle the back of our throats, while the salmon -- perfectly smoked and seasoned -- would just melt in our mouths and somehow vanish down into our stomachs.
God, I can smell it now !
After a couple of years, my Dad decided to buy a smoker -- since the weekends not spent at the lake were spent out on the bay fishing for salmon. This little thing fit right into the fireplace in our living room at home, and I'm not sure what magic my Dad worked, but for days the entire house would smell of smoking fish !
It's hard to find good smoked salmon these days. Too many people season it wrong, or smoke it too long, or don't de-bone the salmon well enough. I have some co-workers who do a decent job, but nothing quite comes close to the way I remember it.
Dang you, Cath! Now I'm craving smoked salmon! And that stand doesn't exist anymore.
Well, while I deal with a craving I can't do anything about, let's see what the next blogger can do with that - here's the chain of command, just follow the blogs, check them out, and leave a comment (or two) to be polite. Next in this chain is Periodically.org Now, does anyone out there have some smoked salmon? Maybe some tofu cream cheese? Some crackers?
Anyone??
blog@cathsmith.com
My Midnight Muse
periodically.org
(The Blog Formerly Known as) Taosbound
Virtual Wordsmith
The Death Wizard Chronicles
Food History
Kappa No He
A piece in the puzzle
Sound Off Blog
Virginia Lee: I Ain't Dead Yet!
awchain
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Well smack me with a wet noodle
I posted my Marathon Muse whine (I mean, informative post) then checked email.
Another agent wants to read a partial.
Color me salmon.
Another agent wants to read a partial.
Color me salmon.
Marathon Muse!
Well, that's what I feel like, anyway. I've just completed a marathon of edits, revamping the entire Keeper series. There was a lot of little niddling work to be done in order to fix a few major plot issues that really did suck (let's be honest) and tighten up the storyline. Not just to introduce the new characters and series, but to do the Keeper novels justice.
Well that, and I have two agents reading partials and they had to be completely re-worked.
Now, to be honest in all its brutal, cold reality - I don't expect anything to come from this.
That is to say, I'm pretty damn sure I'll never get published - and I don't think I care so much any more. I started doing this because I love to write. I love it. Creating new worlds and characters, then watching them grow and change - - especially when they're so enthusiastically embraced by my readers the way Alex and Evan have been. There's no better feeling than that.
To know my stories are being read by people I don't know (as opposed to handing them off to a few friends and family) is amazing.
There's a lot of . . . weirdness, in the publish-me world. Some of it makes perfect sense, some of it bugs the crap out of me. Quite a lot of it is just a headache waiting to happen. And that can all-too-often suck the life right out of a writer.
What was I talking about? Oh, right, this was a post about me being done with my edits. Then it sorta took a whiny-ass turn. Sorry about that.
So basically I took pairs of the previous novels and combined them to make full-length, 100k+ stories instead of the odd 70k or 50k sequels that they'd been in the past. There's a huge plot issue that no longer exists, and another one that was completely rewritten to make more sense (thus eliminating at least one Dues Ex Machina, if not three or four)
And guess what!
That means I'm finally writing a new one.
Yep. Finally moving in a forward, progressive motion. This new installment will introduce the new characters and get things going again. I'm back to what makes me happy - writing what I want, the way I want to, and lovin' every minute of it.
Until the next mood swing, anyway :D
Well that, and I have two agents reading partials and they had to be completely re-worked.
Now, to be honest in all its brutal, cold reality - I don't expect anything to come from this.
That is to say, I'm pretty damn sure I'll never get published - and I don't think I care so much any more. I started doing this because I love to write. I love it. Creating new worlds and characters, then watching them grow and change - - especially when they're so enthusiastically embraced by my readers the way Alex and Evan have been. There's no better feeling than that.
To know my stories are being read by people I don't know (as opposed to handing them off to a few friends and family) is amazing.
There's a lot of . . . weirdness, in the publish-me world. Some of it makes perfect sense, some of it bugs the crap out of me. Quite a lot of it is just a headache waiting to happen. And that can all-too-often suck the life right out of a writer.
What was I talking about? Oh, right, this was a post about me being done with my edits. Then it sorta took a whiny-ass turn. Sorry about that.
So basically I took pairs of the previous novels and combined them to make full-length, 100k+ stories instead of the odd 70k or 50k sequels that they'd been in the past. There's a huge plot issue that no longer exists, and another one that was completely rewritten to make more sense (thus eliminating at least one Dues Ex Machina, if not three or four)
And guess what!
That means I'm finally writing a new one.
Yep. Finally moving in a forward, progressive motion. This new installment will introduce the new characters and get things going again. I'm back to what makes me happy - writing what I want, the way I want to, and lovin' every minute of it.
Until the next mood swing, anyway :D
Monday, August 27, 2007
When Free costs $10.00
So my sister and I were at Staples this weekend, she was buying a new office chair and I had to pick up a memory card for my camera. We're checking out, her at one teller and me at another, and I hear her teller ask: Do you want your two free movie tickets?
To which my sister replies: No, thank you.
Well this threw the woman - she was completely befuddled.
Her: But, they're free.
My sister: No, thank you.
Her: You don't want two free movie passes?
My sister: No, but thank you. (you see, we don't go to the theater, we always wait for the DVD or just use Netflix).
So then, finally convinced she's not going to be passing out two free movie tickets today, she does something else with the register, gives my sister her total, and we meet at the other side. I wasn't asked about free movie tickets, I assume because I hadn't spent as much.
As we're walking to the car, my sister checks her receipt and there's a $10.00 charge for movie tickets. Then a $10.00 credit, obviously applied when my sister convinced this woman she didn't want the tickets.
So, these "free movie tickets" cost $10.00. They charged it up automatically, then offered her the tickets. When she refused them, they had to credit her the $10.00 charge for the "free movie tickets."
I'm staring at the receipt as we speak - and right there, it says "Free movie pass $10.00"
Another WTF moment if ever I saw one.
To which my sister replies: No, thank you.
Well this threw the woman - she was completely befuddled.
Her: But, they're free.
My sister: No, thank you.
Her: You don't want two free movie passes?
My sister: No, but thank you. (you see, we don't go to the theater, we always wait for the DVD or just use Netflix).
So then, finally convinced she's not going to be passing out two free movie tickets today, she does something else with the register, gives my sister her total, and we meet at the other side. I wasn't asked about free movie tickets, I assume because I hadn't spent as much.
As we're walking to the car, my sister checks her receipt and there's a $10.00 charge for movie tickets. Then a $10.00 credit, obviously applied when my sister convinced this woman she didn't want the tickets.
So, these "free movie tickets" cost $10.00. They charged it up automatically, then offered her the tickets. When she refused them, they had to credit her the $10.00 charge for the "free movie tickets."
I'm staring at the receipt as we speak - and right there, it says "Free movie pass $10.00"
Another WTF moment if ever I saw one.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Alex Marcase
Yeah, that's me, Alex Marcase, Captain of the Class-A Warship Defiant. But you can add Captain of the exploration vessel Ascalon, if my plan works. Admiral Rickover double-crossed me when he gave me the Defiant and took my ship for refitting and transport. He swore I could have her back when this mess was through, only we all know this mess ain't ever gonna be through.
Okay, maybe you don't know how Evan and I finally managed, with some outside help, to rectify that whole plague-caused-by-aliens issue. President Eljandro was behind it all, and -- while I say this reluctantly -- we were able to prove it thanks to Paulson Carpenter.
That's a matter for another day's topic, though. Today I'm planning a recovery Op -- some might call it theft -- to get my ship back. Sure, the Defiant is really something. Having a war ship again gives me a little peace of mind in these trouble times. She's small and easy to manage with my reduced crew.
But like I said, times have changed.
I need the Ascalon back for her size and capacity. See, there's a group out here -- a few thousand strong already and potentially growing by the day -- who need transportation to a new colony. That is, once I find us a suitable planet. The war's about to start, everyone's either taking sides or beatin' feet out of the way, and that's where I come in. I volunteered, idiot that I can be sometimes, to find these people a planet far from the reaches of President Eljandro and Admiral Grant. A place they can colonize and make their own, without fear of civil war or the trappings of society, such as it's become.
But to transport that many people, plus the supplies they'll need to start a new world and survive there requires a bigger ship.
So I'm stealing the Ascalon back.
Sure, she's not much to look at. Huge, bulky, and that yellow outer hull color wasn't my choice. But in space, size and shape don't matter one little bit. Capacity and design are king, and she's a beauty in those departments. I can fit enough equipment in her first three holds to outfit a small army, then stuff enough food, fresh water and crop-starters in the other four to keep them alive for more than a year in even the most inhospitable conditions.
Plus, she's mine. I held the lease on her for so many years, and she kept me alive in the black for a long while. Then just when I had her paid for, along came Admiral Rickover and his deal.
Or should I say Rickover and his double-cross? I'm pretty sure he and the president had their plan set in motion even before he found me out there in the nebula and brought me up to speed. Using Evan and I to track down the real culprit was probably their plan all along, but that part, I can't prove. And I don't care anymore. We got done what we had to get done. Maybe that put this civil war in motion a little sooner, but it was going to happen anyway.
Truth be told, this all started with Maker. That little shit had a doomsday scenario all planned out after all, and his weasel Van Holt carried it out.
But that's a long story, and right now, I gotta run. We just got a lead on the Ascalon, and I'll be damned if I'm letting her go a second time!
Okay, maybe you don't know how Evan and I finally managed, with some outside help, to rectify that whole plague-caused-by-aliens issue. President Eljandro was behind it all, and -- while I say this reluctantly -- we were able to prove it thanks to Paulson Carpenter.
That's a matter for another day's topic, though. Today I'm planning a recovery Op -- some might call it theft -- to get my ship back. Sure, the Defiant is really something. Having a war ship again gives me a little peace of mind in these trouble times. She's small and easy to manage with my reduced crew.
But like I said, times have changed.
I need the Ascalon back for her size and capacity. See, there's a group out here -- a few thousand strong already and potentially growing by the day -- who need transportation to a new colony. That is, once I find us a suitable planet. The war's about to start, everyone's either taking sides or beatin' feet out of the way, and that's where I come in. I volunteered, idiot that I can be sometimes, to find these people a planet far from the reaches of President Eljandro and Admiral Grant. A place they can colonize and make their own, without fear of civil war or the trappings of society, such as it's become.
But to transport that many people, plus the supplies they'll need to start a new world and survive there requires a bigger ship.
So I'm stealing the Ascalon back.
Sure, she's not much to look at. Huge, bulky, and that yellow outer hull color wasn't my choice. But in space, size and shape don't matter one little bit. Capacity and design are king, and she's a beauty in those departments. I can fit enough equipment in her first three holds to outfit a small army, then stuff enough food, fresh water and crop-starters in the other four to keep them alive for more than a year in even the most inhospitable conditions.
Plus, she's mine. I held the lease on her for so many years, and she kept me alive in the black for a long while. Then just when I had her paid for, along came Admiral Rickover and his deal.
Or should I say Rickover and his double-cross? I'm pretty sure he and the president had their plan set in motion even before he found me out there in the nebula and brought me up to speed. Using Evan and I to track down the real culprit was probably their plan all along, but that part, I can't prove. And I don't care anymore. We got done what we had to get done. Maybe that put this civil war in motion a little sooner, but it was going to happen anyway.
Truth be told, this all started with Maker. That little shit had a doomsday scenario all planned out after all, and his weasel Van Holt carried it out.
But that's a long story, and right now, I gotta run. We just got a lead on the Ascalon, and I'll be damned if I'm letting her go a second time!
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Well lookie there!
Thanks to an annonymous tip, I just found out the offending post, the one in which the agent's assistant has referred to new writers as Donkeys, has been removed from the blog.
Will wonders never cease.
Of course, this is only after the agency in question posted a huffy response about backing this assistant's post, and suggesting any writer who was offended was clearly one of the Donkeys in question.
As one writing friend said: It takes an Ass to recognize a Donkey.
Will wonders never cease.
Of course, this is only after the agency in question posted a huffy response about backing this assistant's post, and suggesting any writer who was offended was clearly one of the Donkeys in question.
As one writing friend said: It takes an Ass to recognize a Donkey.
Want to glimpse the Writer's World?
Hey, writers, ever wonder what agents and their assistants (who read your query more often than the agents do) think of you?
Imagine they're normal human beings, with hearts, minds and souls like you?
Figure they understand how mistakes might happen, especially to a nervous newbie who's just now starting out in the Trying-To-Get-Published wild, wooly world?
Assume they're thinking, feeling, normal human beings who were raised with the belief that if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything. Especially in public?
Think again.
http://wyliemerrick.blogspot.com/2007/08/what-donkeys-do.html
Yep, that's right, folks ! This dude reading your query and slapping that big NO THANK YOU into your SASE without even reading sentence 1 thinks we're all Donkeys.
So, you still wanna be a writer?
Imagine they're normal human beings, with hearts, minds and souls like you?
Figure they understand how mistakes might happen, especially to a nervous newbie who's just now starting out in the Trying-To-Get-Published wild, wooly world?
Assume they're thinking, feeling, normal human beings who were raised with the belief that if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything. Especially in public?
Think again.
http://wyliemerrick.blogspot.com/2007/08/what-donkeys-do.html
Yep, that's right, folks ! This dude reading your query and slapping that big NO THANK YOU into your SASE without even reading sentence 1 thinks we're all Donkeys.
So, you still wanna be a writer?
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Judgment Day
I've just filled out a form, applying for a juried show this holiday season that I haven't done before. Juried shows are art fairs that have a committee who examine photos of your art, and your prices, and determine if you're "right" for the image they want their show to project.
They judge your quality of work, determine whether or not you actually did hand craft your product as opposed to purchase it somewhere, trying to fake it. Then they decide if it's pretty enough for them.
I've just realized, as I faxed this form along with several photos of our product, how much of my life comes down to being judged.
We all get those evaluations at work once a year, right?
Well, add to that two "hobbies" that are judged, occasionally quite harshly, and maybe that answers a few stress questions for me.
My art has to be judged - first by a committee, then by every single potential customer who steps in or wanders by my booth. They judge it with every comment they make, and some times they don't hold back ! We had one guy come in (while I was running to the bathroom) who - according to my sister - "glanced at the tables, turned to his daughter and said - You can't tell what it is after they "polish" it. Then turned to his wife and said "this is all just glass." Then turned to his daughter again and said "see, they faked all of this to look like rocks, but by polishing it we can tell it's glass."
WTF?
My sister said he wasn't even worth it - she ignored him. He then went to the next booth, friends of ours who do amazing photography, and made more snide remarks.
Tomorrow I'll entertain you with some of the other comments that make me shake my head and do my best Lurch imitation with "uuuhhhhhh".
Anyway, on top of that - as a writer, I'm judged constantly by agents and readers. Agents who see only my query letter and decide they don't even want to see the story, and readers who saw the story and can't resist a comment or five.
Granted, I've never once had a bad comment from a reader (crosses fingers, holds breath, tosses salt). Agents are another story, although two of them so far have at least taken it to the second stage.
Then there's my own judging - This is crap. I'm a hack. Who am I kidding?
Gah! Stop the madness!!
They judge your quality of work, determine whether or not you actually did hand craft your product as opposed to purchase it somewhere, trying to fake it. Then they decide if it's pretty enough for them.
I've just realized, as I faxed this form along with several photos of our product, how much of my life comes down to being judged.
We all get those evaluations at work once a year, right?
Well, add to that two "hobbies" that are judged, occasionally quite harshly, and maybe that answers a few stress questions for me.
My art has to be judged - first by a committee, then by every single potential customer who steps in or wanders by my booth. They judge it with every comment they make, and some times they don't hold back ! We had one guy come in (while I was running to the bathroom) who - according to my sister - "glanced at the tables, turned to his daughter and said - You can't tell what it is after they "polish" it. Then turned to his wife and said "this is all just glass." Then turned to his daughter again and said "see, they faked all of this to look like rocks, but by polishing it we can tell it's glass."
WTF?
My sister said he wasn't even worth it - she ignored him. He then went to the next booth, friends of ours who do amazing photography, and made more snide remarks.
Tomorrow I'll entertain you with some of the other comments that make me shake my head and do my best Lurch imitation with "uuuhhhhhh".
Anyway, on top of that - as a writer, I'm judged constantly by agents and readers. Agents who see only my query letter and decide they don't even want to see the story, and readers who saw the story and can't resist a comment or five.
Granted, I've never once had a bad comment from a reader (crosses fingers, holds breath, tosses salt). Agents are another story, although two of them so far have at least taken it to the second stage.
Then there's my own judging - This is crap. I'm a hack. Who am I kidding?
Gah! Stop the madness!!
Monday, August 20, 2007
I Need Chocolate
So I had these great intentions, right, about every Friday having one of the characters of my books post, changing the character with each Friday. I thought it would be a fun way for my Peeps to get more information about the characters, stuff that isn’t in the books, and an interesting way to introduce the new characters that will be making an appearance soon.
Like an idiot, I’d planned this to start last Friday.
Lemme tell you about my week.
Friday, Saturday and Sunday were to be spent at the Poulsbo Art Festival, so Thursday and Monday were days off of work so I could first get ready, then wind down and recover. All was going well until like an idiot, I decided to send out a few more last ditch effort query letters to agents. Avoiding specifics, I got some good news, then made a few unhappy discoveries, then another really unsettling surprise came out of the blue, and suddenly everything was up in the air.
Where it is currently residing.
But long story short, I was on the brink of ending it all. And I mean all of it. Suddenly I found myself in the middle of Thursday, looking at either slapping together a quick character post that would probably suck, or staying off the Internet completely and waiting until this long weekend was over.
Thankfully the art show went surprisingly well. There were tons of tourists, loads of people saying silly things that I’ll have to blog about later. And countless “are you two twins?” questions. It took my mind off writing completely – there simply wasn’t any time to sit and think about writing one little bit.
It felt like a vacation. So I decided it was a good thing I didn’t jump on here in the middle of my last-week-hell and try to post something sub par.
What I post on a good day is sub par enough !
Oh, and I’m trying to work on my links – so if I do this right, you should find a link to a friend’s blog. He’s a writer, and a really cool guy, for a Ferret. Check him out.
Like an idiot, I’d planned this to start last Friday.
Lemme tell you about my week.
Friday, Saturday and Sunday were to be spent at the Poulsbo Art Festival, so Thursday and Monday were days off of work so I could first get ready, then wind down and recover. All was going well until like an idiot, I decided to send out a few more last ditch effort query letters to agents. Avoiding specifics, I got some good news, then made a few unhappy discoveries, then another really unsettling surprise came out of the blue, and suddenly everything was up in the air.
Where it is currently residing.
But long story short, I was on the brink of ending it all. And I mean all of it. Suddenly I found myself in the middle of Thursday, looking at either slapping together a quick character post that would probably suck, or staying off the Internet completely and waiting until this long weekend was over.
Thankfully the art show went surprisingly well. There were tons of tourists, loads of people saying silly things that I’ll have to blog about later. And countless “are you two twins?” questions. It took my mind off writing completely – there simply wasn’t any time to sit and think about writing one little bit.
It felt like a vacation. So I decided it was a good thing I didn’t jump on here in the middle of my last-week-hell and try to post something sub par.
What I post on a good day is sub par enough !
Oh, and I’m trying to work on my links – so if I do this right, you should find a link to a friend’s blog. He’s a writer, and a really cool guy, for a Ferret. Check him out.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Riddle me this:
I have two sisters. Kim, the oldest, has straight brown hair, brown eyes. Cynthia, the middle, has curly dark auburn hair, brown eyes. Whilst I have curly blonde hair and blue eyes.
Cynthia and I live together, and as we happen to be best buddies, we go everywhere together. And yes, we do look very much alike - above-the-shoulder, naturally curly hair, same general hair cut, our builds are very similar.
So it's no surprise we're mistaken for twins very often. We laugh at it, mostly because our mother is a twin, but the fraternal kind.
But what I don't get is this:
Generic Idiot: "Wow, are you two twins?"
Me: "No, we're just sisters."
Generic Idiot: "Gee, you look like twins. So how far apart are you?"
Me: "We're 18 months apart."
Generic Idiot: "Oh, well that must be why you look so much alike."
WTF????
I mean seriously - WTF ?
Distance between sibling births has NOTHING whatsoever to do with how much or how little they resemble each other. And actually, if you put Kim and myself in a room together and take Cynthia out of the room completely, you'd see the strong resemblance between me and my oldest sister - and she's a full 4 years and 4 months ahead of me!
I swear, I. Just. Don't. Get. It.
Though I do like to tease with:
"Oh, well we look alike because we live together."
That usually shuts them up.
Cynthia and I live together, and as we happen to be best buddies, we go everywhere together. And yes, we do look very much alike - above-the-shoulder, naturally curly hair, same general hair cut, our builds are very similar.
So it's no surprise we're mistaken for twins very often. We laugh at it, mostly because our mother is a twin, but the fraternal kind.
But what I don't get is this:
Generic Idiot: "Wow, are you two twins?"
Me: "No, we're just sisters."
Generic Idiot: "Gee, you look like twins. So how far apart are you?"
Me: "We're 18 months apart."
Generic Idiot: "Oh, well that must be why you look so much alike."
WTF????
I mean seriously - WTF ?
Distance between sibling births has NOTHING whatsoever to do with how much or how little they resemble each other. And actually, if you put Kim and myself in a room together and take Cynthia out of the room completely, you'd see the strong resemblance between me and my oldest sister - and she's a full 4 years and 4 months ahead of me!
I swear, I. Just. Don't. Get. It.
Though I do like to tease with:
"Oh, well we look alike because we live together."
That usually shuts them up.
Monday, August 13, 2007
What Was I Thinking?
So I'm knee-deep in edits (well, really more like up to my boobs, at this point) and I got a bit stuck at this one juncture. I realized, since I've made some significant plot readjustments, if I continue with this other plot issue the way it originally played out, it's going to turn my main character into a bit of an ass-hole.
It would make him responsible for the killing of too man innocents. Well, we can't have that!
So I fussed and I muttered, and I sat in Starbucks with my sister bouncing things off her - like what if he did this, or what if I changed that, the paper around a straw that I wasn't using, and an errant blueberry from my scone.
And in doing so, I was able to figure out the perfect blending of the changes and the plot and how it must mind-meld with the old idea and keep the hero untarnished ( to a point )
Then last night I started thinking about this other little bit, and how it really wasn't logical anymore. And that led to this other small thing that only took place to introduce that one little bit that isn't logical anymore, and how it either has to go, or get altered. Then I got a headache, flipped on my Chant CD and yelled at the cats for fighting on top of me while I was trying to sleep.
Now that I have it all worked out in my head, I'm faced with having to DO it on "paper". It's a little daunting. And the big fear is that it makes perfect sense to me, and it's as clear as the scum on the bottom of a three hundred year old, unattended koi pond to my readers.
But all in all, I'm excited about it. I'm exhausted at the mere thought of doing it, but I'm excited all the same. Maybe it's the Art Festival I'm getting ready for that has me exhausted. I get to sit for three days in a lovely park by a beautiful marina in a smashing tourist town and sell my wares, beginning Friday.
Here's a link to the Festival, if anyone's curious.
http://www.cafnw.org
I won't admit if you can see me in the photos or not - but at the end of it, I'll post photos of the affair on my art web page. So you can avoid them!
Okay, where was I . . . Oh, right -- In. A. Panic!
It would make him responsible for the killing of too man innocents. Well, we can't have that!
So I fussed and I muttered, and I sat in Starbucks with my sister bouncing things off her - like what if he did this, or what if I changed that, the paper around a straw that I wasn't using, and an errant blueberry from my scone.
And in doing so, I was able to figure out the perfect blending of the changes and the plot and how it must mind-meld with the old idea and keep the hero untarnished ( to a point )
Then last night I started thinking about this other little bit, and how it really wasn't logical anymore. And that led to this other small thing that only took place to introduce that one little bit that isn't logical anymore, and how it either has to go, or get altered. Then I got a headache, flipped on my Chant CD and yelled at the cats for fighting on top of me while I was trying to sleep.
Now that I have it all worked out in my head, I'm faced with having to DO it on "paper". It's a little daunting. And the big fear is that it makes perfect sense to me, and it's as clear as the scum on the bottom of a three hundred year old, unattended koi pond to my readers.
But all in all, I'm excited about it. I'm exhausted at the mere thought of doing it, but I'm excited all the same. Maybe it's the Art Festival I'm getting ready for that has me exhausted. I get to sit for three days in a lovely park by a beautiful marina in a smashing tourist town and sell my wares, beginning Friday.
Here's a link to the Festival, if anyone's curious.
http://www.cafnw.org
I won't admit if you can see me in the photos or not - but at the end of it, I'll post photos of the affair on my art web page. So you can avoid them!
Okay, where was I . . . Oh, right -- In. A. Panic!
Friday, August 10, 2007
A Shout Out to My Peeps!
No, not the Easter candy - they're cute, but not terribly tasty.
I mean my readers. Those loyal strangers who have been reading my work for all these many years. The ones who have become such fans of the characters I've been creating, they email me all the time with lovely comments and encouraging things to say. Every time I finish a new novel, I worry incessantly. Will they like it? Will anyone like it? Is it okay - does it suck - did anyone out there even read it?
Then they start comin' in. Emails from people I've never met - who've never met me. Emails from all corners of the globe, telling me what they thought of the new story, thanking me for continuing to produce engaging tales with characters they can fall in love with.
Basically stroking my writerly ego :D
While I do try to reply to every email someone sends me, something I've been noticing lately among the writing community has me feeling even more thankful for My Peeps.
There are way too many writers out there -- really good writers -- who haven't, for one reason or a hundred, been able to find an agent for their work. It's a nasty business, and one that really does require an insane amount of luck to go along with that talent. Imagine you're in a maze of hallways and doors - with an urgent message that you need to get to ONE person in particular, only you don't know which person that is. So you're running through this maze, while all these other people are running around looking for a messenger. You don't realize it - as you run from person to person, trying to deliver your message - but the one person you need to find is running around in the opposite direction.
You run for years, constantly missing that person by just a few seconds, as they go through a door you just came out of.
And all the while you're running, you write more and more messages you need to deliver, but you still don't know which of these hundreds of other people the messages are meant for.
Too many of those messages go undelivered. And I see messengers giving up left, right and center. They put in years of hard work, writing novel after novel but getting rejection after rejection - and like me, all they want is to write and have someone read and enjoy their work. Most of us aren't expecting to be best sellers, or even make money - we just want to tell stories and have people read them.
That's why I feel so lucky to have My Peeps. I know what it means to write a novel and have hundreds of strangers read and enjoy them. Not just friends and family -( they actually don't see what I do at all )- but you people.
Yes, I'm trying to get published in the traditional sense. But you know what? I'm not gonna try forever. I'm a realist, and acknowledge just how niche my work really is. Character-driven science fiction isn't as popular as you would imagine. And that's okay.
Whatever happens - My Peeps will see and read my work. If I fail to get myself wedged between paperbacks on the shelves of Barnes & Nobel, I'll go back to what has served me well for so many years.
My Peeps.
So, to My Peeps - this beer's for you! :D
Oh -- and before I drift off and forget what I was going to say - Starting next Friday, I'm gonna try something new and hopefully entertaining. Every Friday I'm going to post as one of the characters in my books. Every Friday, a different character, going around the horn and back again. This is designed to, hopefully, give My Peeps more insight into what makes these characters tick. Some backstory, as it were. Little tidbits that don't get into the novels. It's an exercise, also, for fleshing out characters and getting to know them even better than I already do.
So, starting next Friday (except next week I'll have to post it on Thursday evening).
Maybe by then I'll have regained the feeling in my right index finger!
I mean my readers. Those loyal strangers who have been reading my work for all these many years. The ones who have become such fans of the characters I've been creating, they email me all the time with lovely comments and encouraging things to say. Every time I finish a new novel, I worry incessantly. Will they like it? Will anyone like it? Is it okay - does it suck - did anyone out there even read it?
Then they start comin' in. Emails from people I've never met - who've never met me. Emails from all corners of the globe, telling me what they thought of the new story, thanking me for continuing to produce engaging tales with characters they can fall in love with.
Basically stroking my writerly ego :D
While I do try to reply to every email someone sends me, something I've been noticing lately among the writing community has me feeling even more thankful for My Peeps.
There are way too many writers out there -- really good writers -- who haven't, for one reason or a hundred, been able to find an agent for their work. It's a nasty business, and one that really does require an insane amount of luck to go along with that talent. Imagine you're in a maze of hallways and doors - with an urgent message that you need to get to ONE person in particular, only you don't know which person that is. So you're running through this maze, while all these other people are running around looking for a messenger. You don't realize it - as you run from person to person, trying to deliver your message - but the one person you need to find is running around in the opposite direction.
You run for years, constantly missing that person by just a few seconds, as they go through a door you just came out of.
And all the while you're running, you write more and more messages you need to deliver, but you still don't know which of these hundreds of other people the messages are meant for.
Too many of those messages go undelivered. And I see messengers giving up left, right and center. They put in years of hard work, writing novel after novel but getting rejection after rejection - and like me, all they want is to write and have someone read and enjoy their work. Most of us aren't expecting to be best sellers, or even make money - we just want to tell stories and have people read them.
That's why I feel so lucky to have My Peeps. I know what it means to write a novel and have hundreds of strangers read and enjoy them. Not just friends and family -( they actually don't see what I do at all )- but you people.
Yes, I'm trying to get published in the traditional sense. But you know what? I'm not gonna try forever. I'm a realist, and acknowledge just how niche my work really is. Character-driven science fiction isn't as popular as you would imagine. And that's okay.
Whatever happens - My Peeps will see and read my work. If I fail to get myself wedged between paperbacks on the shelves of Barnes & Nobel, I'll go back to what has served me well for so many years.
My Peeps.
So, to My Peeps - this beer's for you! :D
Oh -- and before I drift off and forget what I was going to say - Starting next Friday, I'm gonna try something new and hopefully entertaining. Every Friday I'm going to post as one of the characters in my books. Every Friday, a different character, going around the horn and back again. This is designed to, hopefully, give My Peeps more insight into what makes these characters tick. Some backstory, as it were. Little tidbits that don't get into the novels. It's an exercise, also, for fleshing out characters and getting to know them even better than I already do.
So, starting next Friday (except next week I'll have to post it on Thursday evening).
Maybe by then I'll have regained the feeling in my right index finger!
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Writers are strange.
Word association. Makes me nuts sometimes. I'm going along, writing away, then need to name something -- say, a planet, for instance -- and the perfect name pops into my mind. It's perfect because it fits the scene and setting, flows off the mental tongue, and at the time, holds no other meaning in the general world of pop culture.
Which is to say, several years ago, I named a planet Serenity.
We're talkin' 5 years ago. Before Serenity the movie. Even before Firefly *takes a moment to reflect on the genius that is Joss Whedon* So naturally, as I'm doing major rewrites and editing, I realize at this stage I can't keep that name. It brings up the wrong image, and looks as if I stole it.
Yes, I know, you can't "steal" words, but you know what I mean. If I were to name the planet David Bowie, do you think people would give me credit for coming up with that one? It's like naming a character, then a few months later hearing that name on the news as the newly arrested serial killer wanted in 5 states. By the time 60 minutes is through, you can bet you've already deleted that name and replaced it with something completely different.
And while I often find myself snickering at writers who literally agonize over names for their characters, I have to admit naming them is important for a writer. The names have to feel right, sound right, have some appeal - or at least avoid negative connotations. We have to type these names and see them all the time, even dream about them on occasion.
I normally have no trouble coming up with appropriate ones - Alex and Evan in my Keeper series are two of my favorites. Dodge and Mason are also close to my heart. The new series will feature Stephen and Conner.
(note to those who aren't familiar - I don't write gay erotica or anything. My genre is character-based science fiction. Or what my peeps and I like to call "buddy-stories")
Anyhoodle . . . where was I? Oh, right, Serenity.
So now I have this planet that needs a new name - and it's making me nuts. Serenity was a perfect name for this one. It's a planet where dramatic things happen to our major players - not a pleasant place, plagued by storms that prevent human colonization. There are two shipwrecks there, someone dies, and another visiting character committed suicide. And yes, I know what you're thinking: "Does she know what Serenity means?"
I've been trying on Discovery to see what it feels like, and it kinda blows. Went to the thesaurus and it wasn't much help. I suspect I could call this planet Frank, and it wouldn't make much difference to a reader.
I also suspect this is one of those tactics writers use to avoid writing - - "Crap, I can't put one more word down until I name this thing! Aww man! I really need to get this chapter done, but until I can name this planet, I'm stuck! This is really going to be a problem. I'd better go do some laundry and think of a name. Or wash the cat. Maybe if I were to take a long drive in the car, the name will come to me. Bills - I should go pay bills, and the name will come to me. Dang, I'd sure like to keep writing, but until I can find the perfect name . . .
Yeah, writers are strange.
Which is to say, several years ago, I named a planet Serenity.
We're talkin' 5 years ago. Before Serenity the movie. Even before Firefly *takes a moment to reflect on the genius that is Joss Whedon* So naturally, as I'm doing major rewrites and editing, I realize at this stage I can't keep that name. It brings up the wrong image, and looks as if I stole it.
Yes, I know, you can't "steal" words, but you know what I mean. If I were to name the planet David Bowie, do you think people would give me credit for coming up with that one? It's like naming a character, then a few months later hearing that name on the news as the newly arrested serial killer wanted in 5 states. By the time 60 minutes is through, you can bet you've already deleted that name and replaced it with something completely different.
And while I often find myself snickering at writers who literally agonize over names for their characters, I have to admit naming them is important for a writer. The names have to feel right, sound right, have some appeal - or at least avoid negative connotations. We have to type these names and see them all the time, even dream about them on occasion.
I normally have no trouble coming up with appropriate ones - Alex and Evan in my Keeper series are two of my favorites. Dodge and Mason are also close to my heart. The new series will feature Stephen and Conner.
(note to those who aren't familiar - I don't write gay erotica or anything. My genre is character-based science fiction. Or what my peeps and I like to call "buddy-stories")
Anyhoodle . . . where was I? Oh, right, Serenity.
So now I have this planet that needs a new name - and it's making me nuts. Serenity was a perfect name for this one. It's a planet where dramatic things happen to our major players - not a pleasant place, plagued by storms that prevent human colonization. There are two shipwrecks there, someone dies, and another visiting character committed suicide. And yes, I know what you're thinking: "Does she know what Serenity means?"
I've been trying on Discovery to see what it feels like, and it kinda blows. Went to the thesaurus and it wasn't much help. I suspect I could call this planet Frank, and it wouldn't make much difference to a reader.
I also suspect this is one of those tactics writers use to avoid writing - - "Crap, I can't put one more word down until I name this thing! Aww man! I really need to get this chapter done, but until I can name this planet, I'm stuck! This is really going to be a problem. I'd better go do some laundry and think of a name. Or wash the cat. Maybe if I were to take a long drive in the car, the name will come to me. Bills - I should go pay bills, and the name will come to me. Dang, I'd sure like to keep writing, but until I can find the perfect name . . .
Yeah, writers are strange.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Deus ex machina
'God from a machine’ who was lowered on to the stage by mechanical contrivance in some ancient Greek plays to solve the problems of the plot.
It's cheating, basically. Coming up with the One Grand Solution to solve issues that a writer created for his or her characters, then couldn't come up with a logical exit strategy or got lazy/rushed/bored.
I'm guilty of that myself, once or twice.
Okay once. I swear. Really. And any writer who tells you they've NEVER done it is fibbing. It's pretty easy to do in Science Fiction, and even easier to convince yourself you aren't doing it. With SF, you sugar-coat the Deus as "alien" and the machina as "science".
Wait, hang on . . . I've done it twice.
That's what I'm editing out of my (admittedly beloved) Keeper series. And yes, those of you who know better are saying "What a dolt - she keeps going back to that series instead of putting it in a drawer and moving on." But what you don't know is I've written 12 full-length novels so far, the Keeper series is just a few of them - and yes, it's a favorite. Nothing wrong with that ! *I'm petulantly sticking my tongue out as you read this *
Let's face it, I'm not the next Stephen King. I'm not even the third to last Stephen King.
Hell, I don't even read Stephen King!
So I get to do what makes me happy - which would ultimately end with my name on the spine of a paperback nestled neatly among the W's of the Science Fiction section of your local Barnes & Nobel - but until then . . .
Over the many months at Absolute Write, hanging out with people who know things, I learned a lot of No No's, a few Taboos, and a couple of That's Ridiculous's (say that out loud, I dare you). Then I started to apply those newfound realisms in my writing -- some of them took, some bounced right off, hit the corner to my left, ricocheted down the hall and were lost forever when someone opened the door at just the right time. Or was that a meatball?
Anyway - I once joined in a conversation wherein we were defining and then more or less mocking the use of the Deus Ex Machina. Then it dawned on me that in the Keeper series, I'd used basically that same scape goat of reasoning.
So, I'm editing. Taking the Deus out, putting some logic and forethought in. Making the series stronger for it. (please GOD, I hope that's true). And as I said before, I've created this wonderful spin-off series that will be completely stand alone, as they all should be, but will benefit from a lead-in. Especially true if these babies never get published. My peeps will at least get some enjoyment out of it all.
Meanwhile, though, I find that editing of this level has got to be one of the levels of Hell. Probably the third, or maybe fourth. Not so much because of the restructuring that has to take place, but the embarrassment of realizing how much has to come out ! I've used MSWord's lovely Find and Replace to highlight every mention of this 'god' issue, and when I go through the stories and see how much lights up, it's freaky.
It's embarrassing.
Writers learn from each story, and get better with every novel - so I can forgive myself to a certain degree. I've learned a lot since starting this series, and keep on learning as I edit and create more. And when I look back over everything I've written, I still love them all - but the devil's in the details, and some of my details have even me shaking my head in that "what was she thinking, going out to the grocery store in those pants" kind of way.
So that's about it - I'm editing, sometimes with my head inside a paper bag, which makes it a little hard to see the screen, and promising myself the series will be SO much stronger for it all.
End whine.
It's cheating, basically. Coming up with the One Grand Solution to solve issues that a writer created for his or her characters, then couldn't come up with a logical exit strategy or got lazy/rushed/bored.
I'm guilty of that myself, once or twice.
Okay once. I swear. Really. And any writer who tells you they've NEVER done it is fibbing. It's pretty easy to do in Science Fiction, and even easier to convince yourself you aren't doing it. With SF, you sugar-coat the Deus as "alien" and the machina as "science".
Wait, hang on . . . I've done it twice.
That's what I'm editing out of my (admittedly beloved) Keeper series. And yes, those of you who know better are saying "What a dolt - she keeps going back to that series instead of putting it in a drawer and moving on." But what you don't know is I've written 12 full-length novels so far, the Keeper series is just a few of them - and yes, it's a favorite. Nothing wrong with that ! *I'm petulantly sticking my tongue out as you read this *
Let's face it, I'm not the next Stephen King. I'm not even the third to last Stephen King.
Hell, I don't even read Stephen King!
So I get to do what makes me happy - which would ultimately end with my name on the spine of a paperback nestled neatly among the W's of the Science Fiction section of your local Barnes & Nobel - but until then . . .
Over the many months at Absolute Write, hanging out with people who know things, I learned a lot of No No's, a few Taboos, and a couple of That's Ridiculous's (say that out loud, I dare you). Then I started to apply those newfound realisms in my writing -- some of them took, some bounced right off, hit the corner to my left, ricocheted down the hall and were lost forever when someone opened the door at just the right time. Or was that a meatball?
Anyway - I once joined in a conversation wherein we were defining and then more or less mocking the use of the Deus Ex Machina. Then it dawned on me that in the Keeper series, I'd used basically that same scape goat of reasoning.
So, I'm editing. Taking the Deus out, putting some logic and forethought in. Making the series stronger for it. (please GOD, I hope that's true). And as I said before, I've created this wonderful spin-off series that will be completely stand alone, as they all should be, but will benefit from a lead-in. Especially true if these babies never get published. My peeps will at least get some enjoyment out of it all.
Meanwhile, though, I find that editing of this level has got to be one of the levels of Hell. Probably the third, or maybe fourth. Not so much because of the restructuring that has to take place, but the embarrassment of realizing how much has to come out ! I've used MSWord's lovely Find and Replace to highlight every mention of this 'god' issue, and when I go through the stories and see how much lights up, it's freaky.
It's embarrassing.
Writers learn from each story, and get better with every novel - so I can forgive myself to a certain degree. I've learned a lot since starting this series, and keep on learning as I edit and create more. And when I look back over everything I've written, I still love them all - but the devil's in the details, and some of my details have even me shaking my head in that "what was she thinking, going out to the grocery store in those pants" kind of way.
So that's about it - I'm editing, sometimes with my head inside a paper bag, which makes it a little hard to see the screen, and promising myself the series will be SO much stronger for it all.
End whine.
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