Leaving a Comment for a Comment

Okay, so this is my first blog. I warned every one of that when I wrote my first entry. So when comments came in to my e-mail from the blog site, at first I hit reply and answered. But they all bounced back. After a few I figured out that things just didn’t work that way with blogs. But for some reason, it never came to mind that I could post a comment here on my blog in reply to a comment left from someone. Talk about a duh moment. Hehehe

But I’m really proud that I’ve figured that out now. Sometimes in life, we just have to laugh at ourselves. I’m good at making myself laugh. (Smile)

Characters That Pop Out of The Shadows

My first romantic suspense is also a paranormal story; it’s hard for me to write any story without something paranormal showing up in it. While I've been working on this newest manuscript, all of these other paranormal type characters have stepped out of the shadows. Suddenly my three main characters for this story, who were each going to have a book, now have friends who all want their own books, too. I've taken a break from the writing to get to know these new guys and gals. And what fun it is.

I’m getting to write my own rules for these characters, who aren’t your normal everyday people. In the mix there is a vampire, a werewolf, a witch, well a few of each really. And then there are these guys who were genetically altered. I can make them each able to do, or not do, what ever I like. (Smile)

I want to get to know these new and unusual characters well before I write any more for now, since at least a couple of them are going to show up in this first book of the series.

So I’ve been clipping out pictures, filling out character charts, and making my family wonder why I’m talking aloud sometimes, saying things as if I were someone else. I’ve also been walking around mumbling to myself, things like... "That would never work.” or "He would never do that." or “That would be perfect and pull all of the tension and conflict together.” After which I usually run toward the computer or grab the closest thing I can write on and anything I can write with. Honestly though, they should be used to such actions out of me by now. (Smile)

I think these stories should be a whole lot of fun to write! I’m going to be spending the next year, probably longer, with a number of really great characters. I hope I get to share them one day.

Life is Too Short

I’ve heard that a million times, in conversations, in songs, in movies. I haven’t thought a lot about it though. Even though I’ve had health problems for a few years now, and I know death happens. I’ve lost my mother, my father, a brother, all of my grandparents, and more aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends than I can mention. I still figured, mostly, that I had plenty of time left. (I bet we all think this.)

And then a couple of weeks ago, a fellow romance writer who I knew through some on-line groups, died. She didn’t have cancer, she wasn’t old, there wasn’t a terrible car wreck, she simply got the flu, and then things went down hill from there.

I spent some time looking through old messages she had written. They were normal messages. The kinds we send out every day about writers block, falling off the diet wagon, plans for her next book...just totally normal stuff. And then she was gone. It was like someone just erased her away, and her website is there, but she isn’t, and no more messages come from her e-mail address, and when I send a question to one of the groups we belonged to together, she doesn’t reply.

I know her novel is sitting in her computer unfinished. Her notebook of ideas for articles and stories will never be jotted in again...and she’ll never get the chance to finish that novel, or start another piece of writing. What’s done is done, and what’s left undone will stay that way.

Those thoughts made me open my own folder of ideas. I glanced through them, and there are some good ones in there. (Smile) I looked at the MSS I have started, and I realized that I don’t want to leave them unfinished. I like my characters and I want to tell their whole story.

So I’ve decided to work a little harder, maybe write a little faster, and to let some other things slip. Who says there’s anything wrong with a sink full of dirty dishes, and the world won’t fall apart if I don’t judge a contest for a while, there's really nothing wrong with saying no, and I doubt I’ll be missed that much if I suddenly start posting fewer messages on those on-line groups.

I have a great excuse after all; I’ve got stories to tell. (Smile)

Rewriting Old Work

Okay, so I was thrilled to have that new scanner. I was so glad that I could finally get those old completed manuscripts in the computer. (I actually started out writing Westerns romances, then switched to contemporary.)

I got the first one in. And…

Oh my!

Either I’ve gotten much better at writing since that story was finished, or I’ve gotten to be a much better judge of writing. And I sure hope it’s the first reason, and not the second.

Basically the story is a good one. Strong plot, good conflict, great characters, some things do need a little fix here or there. But the writing! It needs the most work. Okay, so it’s not that bad maybe. I’ve seen worse, right? I think I just feel a little overwhelmed and unsure of where or how to start. I guess the only place to start is with page one and see how much is wroth saving and how much isn’t. It’s almost 500 pages long, so I have plenty of cutting room to spare. (Smile)

Now the question is, do I really want to scan those others in? Or just let them die in the shadows, covered with dust and forgotten? Hmmmm? Good question. (Smile)

Having Another Computer is a Great Thing!

I was so happy that hubby was getting a computer of his own, and that this one in the office was going to be mine alone--at last. But things have been better than I thought they would be. Notice the time of this post as proof. {Smile} It’s after nine-thirty and I’m on the computer. Of course, I would normally be fast asleep by this late. Hey, when you have to get up at four in the morning, nine is late. {Smile}

There’s more good news also. Hubby’s computer came with a kick-butt all in one printer. All of those old, long-ago finished manuscripts that I did on my Brother WP can now finally be scanned into a computer. That old Brother WP did save to a floppy, but too late I learned that it saved the files in a way that nothing but the same old brand and model of Brother WP could read. What a blow. But now with this new scanner, and some time and work, I can scan each printed up manuscript into the computer in Word. I wish doing rewrites and making them worth reading would be as easy as scanning them in is going to be. {Smile}

Okay, so I could stay here longer and write more if I wanted to tonight, but since the words are starting to blur and I have to cook for a small army tomorrow, maybe enough is enough and I should give up. “Night, night,” she said with a yawn.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!

I hope all of your wishes come true in 2005!

He Quit Smoking and I Get to Write More

I'm sure you don't get what one has to do with the other, but it's still true. {Smile} I’ll explain.

My husband has smoked since he was eleven-years-old. Yes, you read that right. So he's been smoking for almost thirty years--more than two packs a day for probably the latter half of that time. I never really believed he would be able to quit. Not that he hasn't tried.

Oh, he has tried! So many times.

He watched my mother die from lung cancer after smoking for most of her life. That was terrible enough that he tried even harder afterwards to stop, but never made it for more than a day or so.

This go around though, he tried the patches. You have to wear them every day for two and half months. People say they are expensive, but I figured it up, and they didn't cost any more than those cartons of cigarettes. (And if they had cost three times as much, but worked, they would have been worth every cent.) I will admit to you that I figured he'd open the first box, start with the best intentions, and then before week one was up he'd be standing in line at Smoky Joe's for a nicotine fix.

I almost wanted to get my hopes up when he had made it through the first week, but didn't dare. And then week three came and I started to hope just a tiny little bit. And then week four, and hope was flowing. By week six, I really wanted to believe this was it. Some how each week went by, and he didn't give in or give up, and then suddenly we were down to the last box and the last patch.

I felt the ground beneath me tremble a little when we pulled that last patch off of his shoulder. He was on his own now. No more training wheels. I just knew he was going to fall, and hard. So I held my breath and waited. (Of course I never let him know that I had any fear or doubts at all.) Day one, day two, day three. Solid as a rock. Day four, day five, day six. A couple of hard ones, but he didn't even tilt to the side. Day seven, day eight, day nine. I exhaled. My muscles relaxed. I’m more proud of him that I can put here in words.

But what, you ask again, does all of this have to do with writing more? A lot. I promise.

See, the deal is that I had told hubby that if he was ever able to quit smoking, he could have the money he spent each month on cigarettes, and do what ever he wanted with it. What he wanted was a new computer. Mind you, I don't think there is anything wrong with the one in my office, but being male and all, he wanted more power!

So last week he got his wish. A kick-butt computer all of his own. I even bought him a new desk and chair for Christmas, which he has already opened since he had to have a place to set the new computer and sit himself. {Smile} His computer is in the living room, so the office and this computer are now all mine! That means in the evenings or on the weekends, if I get the urge and have the time, I can write away. Since I spend so many hours a day keeping up with the e-mail groups I run, and answering mail, or even working on my website, I'm hoping some extra hours at the computer will mean some extra chapters. I guess that would give me a good goal for 2005. {Smile}

Another Thanksgiving Come and Gone

I cooked too much, ate too much, and stayed busy too much. And yet somehow I managed to get a little writing done now and again, so I’m not complaining. (Smile.) The most important thing is though, that I enjoyed Thanksgiving with my family and friends.

So often now it seems we get so caught up in the busy and rush of the holidays that we forget they are holidays--times that should be enjoyed, savored, like a good piece of fried chicken that you gnaw down to the born and then lick your fingers clean after. (Smile.) I know you get it, but the chicken is the holiday and all of the good things that come with it. (Smile.)

I’m going to make sure I think of things that way this month, since today is the first day of December. I’m going to take time biting through that crispy golden brown crust, savoring each bite of that moist tender meat, not leaving even the tiniest piece on the bone, and then spend time making sure each finger is clean. I’m going to get e v e r y t h i n g out of that piece of fried chicken that I can.

There was an empty spot at my Thanksgiving table this year. One very dear smiling face that always loved my cooking so much. We are human you know, and that means there’s no guarantee that we, or any bite of that chicken, will be here next year, or the day after Christmas--or even tomorrow. Now is the time to feast! Not on fried chicken, but on love, family, hugs, friends, laughter, long talks--seemingly unimportant little everyday moments that pass without the spotlight or the blaze of glory they are worthy of.

Diets & Writing

Okay, so I’m pretty sure you are wondering what a diet can have to do with writing, but in my world they have a lot to do with each other. (Smile) I’m always fighting the battle of the bulge. The ground that sees the most action is the belly area. I’ve spent few really thin days in my lifetime, so this battle goes on and on.

And where does the writing fit in you ask?

Right there with the food battle -- behind enemy lines even.

When I’m having a bad writing day, or any bad writing time at all, and those words just won’t come, I find myself escaping from in front of the computer to grab something to eat. I mean no one can blame me for taking a short break from writing to eat. Right?

I think that’s the ill-advised reasoning that started my problem at least. When I wrote freelance full-time I had a tight weekly eight AM deadline. That last day and night were H E double L. It was push to you die. Payback for every minute I’d missed writing during the week. No time for writer’s block. Finish or else! Still, the family knew I had to stop to eat. I was allowed to stop to eat. So I did, even when it wasn’t mealtime, even when I wasn’t even really hungry. I didn’t feel guilty for taking a break to eat.

I didn’t even think about it that way at the time. In fact, I’ve just really noticed it, thought about it, in the last few months. Now I can’t “not” see it. When I’m stuck or the writing just seems to suck, and I’m sitting here trying to force words to become sentences and sentences to become pages, I run from it and use food as the excuse. Someone who likes food as much as I do, doesn’t need an extra excuse. (Smile)

It’s great that I have found this flaw, since we have to find the flaw to fix it, but this means I need to fight two battles at once. I’m still trying to get back to my fiction writing, to a decent writing schedule. I have to become productive or toss in the towel. One of the two! Stop or go already!

So here I am trying to make daily -- or at least almost daily -- writing a habit again, and in the middle of it, I’m on a diet again. One seems to be combating the other. So I’m losing at one or the other each day it seems. If I try to write, I eat more than I should, or things I shouldn’t. If I stay busy in other ways, like cleaning house, working out, figuring the bills -- which should make me want to write when I see the totals -- doing the household shopping, bathing the dogs, even doing e-mail or working on my website, I stick to my diet pretty well. But once I put my butt in this computer seat and open one of my Word files to work on a manuscript, I freeze up. I do a few words, and doubts hit me. I do a few words and can’t think of what to write next. I do a few words and wonder why I’m wasting my time. I stare at the screen and do no words, and then suddenly remember I’m hungry. I don’t give in right away. I try a little longer, maybe get a few more words out, and then I lose.

I guess like everything else, I just need to take this one day at a time. Maybe one writing session at a time, until I stop thinking that being unable to write should be rewarded with food. I don’t guess rewarded is the right word. I probably should say comforted with food. When I find it hard to write, I look for comfort when I should just keep writing through the hard spots. All of those finish pages at the end of the day will offer a lot of comfort. (Smile)

Getting Organized

How do things get out of hand so quickly? Books, papers, mail, clothes, whatnots, magazines, odds and ends, everything! It can happen to anyone. It happens to me a lot. Even my e-mail in box gets cluttered and takes on a life of its own. (Smile)

I’ve put my foot down on a lot of clutter lately. Wait, I don’t mean things are so cluttered that the mass has spilled over onto the floor. (Smile) What I meant was I’m trying hard to put an end to clutter. That’s a big deal for a pack rat like me. I’ve gotten rid a lot of stuff -- out of my closet, out of my shelves, out of my cabinets, out of my files, and even out of my in box. I can’t live up to that declutter law that says if you haven’t used it in six months, toss it; but I’m getting better.

And part of that is getting organized.

So I’m working on my desk, my files, even my computer files, and the info I have collected for the three manuscripts I have underway right now.

(Yes, I said three. I’ve had a long standing rule of only allowing myself to work on two manuscripts at a time, never starting a third until the present number one or number two were completed, so don’t ask me where I slipped this time. Oh, why the rule you ask. Because it’s so easy to reach that half way mark, where many of us find ourselves getting stuck, and move on to another manuscript. That’s why so many writers have so many started manuscripts and none completed.)

I’ve made myself a new folder for each of the three I’m working on. I’ve printed up every note and idea I’ve sent myself about them through e-mail. I’ve printed up the on-line research I did for them, I’ve gathered up the magazine articles or any other paper with info for them that I have collected, and all of this stuff has been put into one of those three folders. I have a few completed manuscripts that I want to polish up as well, and I’m going to do the same thing for each one of them. That way when I get an idea or a spark of something that I could fix in one, I can jot it down or print it up, and put it in that folder. The same if I read an article or find a bit of research that might come in handy for one. Should make things a lot easier and should keep me from losing ideas and research that I might really wish I had later. (I actually used to do this when I first started writing. I should never have stopped.)

As far as the rest of the house being organized? Like I said, I’m getting there. I do find it harder to let go of some things than others. Since I’ve lost a brother and both of my parents, anything that they liked a lot or gave to me, or made, I just find painful to give up, even if it’s broken or not useful. But I’m learning that it’s their memories I cherish, not their things. I just have to keep telling myself that letting go of their things isn’t letting go of them. They will always be with me.

Writing is Hard Work!

My daughter used to tell her friends that I didn't work. I just "stayed at home and wrote things". Then she got to spend the day job shadowing me a few years ago. She got to miss the whole day of school without it being counted against her, and in return spent the day working with me. She thought this would be a piece of cake. After all, "Mom's only a writer."

At the time I was working for a big company, doing short biographies of some well-known musical artists. Including a few rock stars that my daughter thought were just great. (Smile) I was also working out the plot and characters for a new romance novel. It all sounded like great fun to her--and nothing like work.

We started the day off by sending in a new list of names to my editor for approval. This is a list of artists that I'd like to write bios on. The editor would later give me an approval for the names she wanted me to go with. We then sent off a few interview questions by e-mail. Got a few answers in from some I had already sent off, and then got down to writing bios. That meant sitting right in front of the computer until lunch time, simply looking over notes, double checking facts, and writing, and rewriting, and rewriting. (Oh, it distressed my young daughter even more to discover that ** gasp ** grammar and spelling had to be correct. And worse, my editor wanted things done in a certain way and style.)

It only took about an hour of this for the joyful sparkle to fade from my daughter's beautiful hazel eyes. She was more than ready for a break when noon came around. I didn't even know that child could eat as slowly as she did that day, especially on a day when she didn't have to be in school. (Smile)

After lunch she helped me finish up another bio and start the next. About halfway through that one, she begged for mercy, asking couldn't we please work on my story instead.

I gave in. Of course I soon found that plotting and doing character charts were no more fun to her than writing bios had been. I think she was more happy to see three o'clock--her quitting time for the day--come around than she would have been if she were sitting in class waiting for the school bell to ring.

That evening she had to write a paper for her teacher, explaining what I did and what she learned about me and my job from the time she had spent with me that one day. The one part of that paper that sticks in my mind even now is--Writing is hard work! It seems a lot of people don't know that. I think even most writers don't start out knowing that, and don't figure it out to somewhere after chapter three of the first novel they try to write. So I'm really glad that at least my daughter finally got it. Even if maybe she wouldn't remember it later.

Fast forward to fall 2004. I was busy doing a little free writing with pen and paper when my daughter came through the living room with one of her friends yesterday evening. I didn't think to look up or nod. I was kind of lost in my words. But I did hear my daughter's voice though, when she told her friend, "Looks like Mom's still hard at work. Let's watch the movie in my room." I glanced up in time to see them walk away. I forgot about my words for a moment, and smiled, remembering a day gone by and a chance to bond and understand that all happened on one single school day when there was no school.