Well Hello, Wednesday.

I didn't post yesterday. Well, I mean, I did...but I didn't. Why? Two reasons. One, the kids are on vacation and have no activities and I never know what day I'm standing in when that happens. Two, I was finishing this.

I made this throw quilt as a fundraiser for my kids' class. We're raffling it off to help raise money to send them to environmental camp. I committed to the darned thing months ago and I made progress early, but then everyone got sick and the quilt got put off. Because no one wants pukey, head-cold ridden people working on their quilt. (Not that it wouldn't be washed before it leaves here, but quilt fabric is expensive. One does not wish to risk staining.)

Monday and Tuesday, though, I powered through and it is finally done and off my plate. Which means that now I can focus on writing. And, y'know, getting my blog posts up on time.

How's your week going? Did I miss any good Oscar dresses?

Side note to Megan: I'm disorganized, but I'm not so disorganized that I can't schedule my blog posts around that. ;)

Oh, and Happy Leap Day. :)

It's Tuesday!

There should be a blog post here, but there isn't. There will be one tomorrow, though. Yay!

*ahem*

My apologies for the delay.

(Stop worrying, Julie. Everyone's fine.)

WTSWIH: Ovid Edition

I'm almost afraid to say this because school vacation is coming up and I may be jinxing it, but I think we're getting better. Don't quote me on that.

I had a nasty head cold this week. It was damn near impossible to think through. So instead of working (or, more accurately, typing three words then staring at the screen until I dozed off), I finally gave in to all the folks who've told me to watch Downton Abbey. Holy crap, people. My biggest problem with this show is that I got well enough to work again by the fifth episode of season two and I haven't been able to finish it. And it's likely to stay that way for the next three weeks or so. Argh!

Le sigh. It's better than still being sick.

Anyway, down to business.

What They Said: 

Chance is always powerful. Let your hook be always cast; in the pool where you least expect it, there will be a fish. ~ Ovid

What I Heard:

Put your bad self out there, yo. ~ O

There are tons of moments about which writers fantasize. Getting an agent! Selling your book! The blurbs! The cover! The ARC! OMG! Every one of these moments seems greater than the last.

But none of those are the biggest. The biggest moment is the moment you first submit your writing anywhere, because that's the moment you know you're serious. You've sent your writing to a venue where, if accepted, it will be made available for public consumption. That. Is. Huge.

Now I know, I know, some people are saying, "I don't need to submit. I'm self-publishing." To do this, though, you will need to submit your work to a reputable editor* and then market the hell out of that sucker. Same difference. You're still putting yourself out there.

It's a litmus test. You let other eyes see it. You make it available for others to purchase.** You value it enough to seek payment. This is the moment you know you mean it, and none of those other moments will happen without it. If you don't put it out there, no one will ever discover it.

Cast your line.

*Please, dear God, get an editor. Don't sell yourself short. Don't buy into the fallacy of quantity over quality. Everyone needs an editor, even special snowflakes like you and me.

**I don't understand the whole "I'm putting it on Amazon for free" thing. I mean, a free short story to promote the novel you're selling? Okay. But a whole free novel? Forever? Don't you feel your work has worth? I don't get it.

If you're a writer, what's your dream moment? If not, what's your opinion of Downton Abbey? (No spoilers!)

Soundtrack Number Three

So. I'm sick again. But I'm not going to go into it because it will make me sad. (I won't really be sad. It just sounds nicer than, "If Magnum brings another sickness home from work, I'm going to make him sleep in his office.") Moving on.

I'm still working hard on the new manuscript, drafting my little heart out. As I've mentioned in the past, I'm a soundtracker. The new manuscript is a young adult contemporary fantasy and most of the songs represent characters in the book, though they rarely start out that way. 

When I'm starting a project and fleshing out the plot and characters, there will be songs in my everyday listening that will jump out at me and yell, "I want to be in the soundtrack!" (Not literally. That would be weird.) I make a note of those songs and set them up in a playlist on my iPod when it's time to draft. At that point, they don't have a home. 

Later, once I've gotten into the writing a bit, I start to assign songs to characters or major turning points. It's a telling part of the process for me, because the songs often end up assigned to a different character than I'd thought in the beginning. Things crystallize at that point -- personalities, desires, things like that. Now that I'm through with that part of it, I thought I'd share. 

Here they are, divvied up by character. (Links will open a new window.)

Sonny (Madison):

Infinite Arms ~ Band of Horses

Firefight ~ Jimmy Eat World

Endtapes ~ The Joy Formidable

Glitter in the Air ~ Pink

Pete:

Loser ~ Beck

Jesus is a Rochdale Girl ~ Elbow 

No Way Back ~ Foo Fighters

Can't Find My Way Home ~ Alana Davis

Amari:

Cold ~ Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz

Only if for a Night ~ Florence and The Machine

Why Do I Keep Counting ~ The Killers

Bells For Her ~ Tori Amos

Tiras:

Slip to the Void ~ Alter Bridge

Search and Destroy ~ Peaches

Noa:

Stillness In Motion ~ George Clinton and His Gangsters of Love (If you scroll down, you can play a sample of the song. Best I could do. This song is an elusive bugger.)

Move Away ~ The Killers

Roald:

Hunt You Down ~ Saliva

Blood, Milk, and Sky ~ White Zombie

General Atmosphere:

Into Dust ~ Mazzy Star

Dear Friends ~ Elbow

Hope you enjoyed. Feel free to make fun of my musical tastes in the comments. 

WTSWIH: Douglas Adams Edition

Well, it's been an unpleasant week what with The Pukes and a relapse of The Pukes and everything that goes with it. The stuff I needed to do this week will not be done this week. And I feel like I've been whining too much here, so I'm going to stop now and get right to it.

What They Said:

"I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I've ended up where I needed to be." ~ Douglas Adams

What I Heard:

Your outline is not a Supreme Court ruling. It's okay if you switch it up. ~ Dougie (Don't Call Me Howser)

In case you were unaware, writers tend to divvy themselves up into two categories: plotters and pantsers. Plotters are people who outline their stories before they sit down to write, then follow the outline. Pantsers are those who sit down with an idea or a character and see where it takes them. 

I normally fall somewhere in between. I have a general idea of the plot/major conflict/overall story arc, I make some notes about characters and setting, but I fill in the rest as I go. Last time, I tried to do it differently. I plotted. I outlined. I pre-planned turning points and betrayals, for crying out loud. I made copious notes on the rules of my world and the various backgrounds of all the main characters. I was thorough, dammit.

And it didn't work. 

Now, I've seen some people who would say that they can't plot because it gets boring if they already know the ending. Or being so clinical about it sucks the life out of the story. Or they feel like they've had to write the book twice and the enthusiasm is gone, etc., etc. 

I think what people in these situations forget, what I forgot*, is that no one chiseled that outline into a rock. And even if they did, there are more rocks. That chapter eight you planned isn't working out? Change it. That major character isn't pulling his weight? Cut him. Outlines are great as guides, but they're only guides. The book is a different animal entirely. Let it go where it needs to be.

Tell me, good folken, where do you  fall on the Plotter-Pantser Continuum? 

*The other problem was that I spent too much time creating the main character, not enough time finding his voice. I'm working on it.


Also, I have no idea what's going on with the spacing. I think Google's new incestuous format is mucking things up. I could be wrong.

Another one bites the dust.

I just had one of those weekends that's not really a weekend. You know, the ones where everyone is busier than if they'd simply gone to school or work or wherever they go on weekdays? That.

This was Birthday Party weekend. Which means that whatever time was not spent at basketball games and fundraisers was spent cleaning and preparing for the party, then at the party itself. Three kids, one party, done and done. But no rest until Sunday night, when Magnum and I sat our butts in soft chairs and sighed a collective Ahhhh.

With the party out of the way, I could move on to more important things, like writing, finishing the fundraiser quilt, writing...you get the gist. Yesterday, the plan was to hop in the car and hightail it to my mom's as soon as the kids were on the bus. There, I would finish quilting my fundraiser quilt and sew the binding to the quilt top (my machine is...um...reluctant to do these things) in time to get home and get the kids off the bus.

Then, at 6:08 a.m., I received a phone call from the school. There was a problem with the heating. There would be a two hour delay. There was no way I'd be able to make it to mom's (thirty-five minutes away), finish quilting, and make it back before school was out. All right. Okay. I can roll with that. I called my mom and informed her I wouldn't be there until this morning.

But then, at 12:21 p.m., #3 Son, the most recent Birthday Boy, the only one to escape The Pukes of 2012, succumbed. All over my living room carpet. And himself. And the Wii remote.

*sigh*

I may need to buy stock in the Clorox company. (Or not. It doesn't seem to be doing me any good.)

Can we just be done with The Pukes now? Please? That'd be great.

Sorry to whine at you all. Really and truly. How was your weekend? Oh, and Happy Valentine's Day. (Because The Pukes are romantic.)

WTSWIH: Joseph Hansen Edition

I started the week off well, getting in twelve to eighteen hundred words a day. They weren't enormous amounts, but adequate and, more importantly, steady. Then Wednesday morning, the day my youngest turned five, my daughter got what the five year old likes to refer to as The Pukes. Again.


Now, to appreciate the full calamity of the situation, you have to understand that my youngest has been waiting to turn five since he was three and his brother went off to kindergarten without him. He'd been counting down for months. (Literally.) He'd been talking about what he was going to have when I took him out for his special birthday lunch after Library story hour (a chocolate chip Micky Mouse pancake from the local diner). He was going to come to the grocery store and pick out exactly what he wanted for his special birthday dinner (hamburgers and cornbread). Not the best menu, but it was his birthday.


Except: The Pukes.


Magnum to the rescue. He bagged work (with work's approval) and came home in time for story hour. Not only did #3 Son get his special lunch and dinner, but, since I was home to meet the bus, Daddy also took him bowling (he got a strike!) and out for ice cream. And sister is now over The Pukes. We're still on puke watch, but are hoping to escape further repercussions. Now I just need to catch back up with the writing.


In the meantime...


What They Said:

Put weather in. ~ Joseph Hansen 

What I Heard:

Details matter. ~ Joe

I think maybe I've mentioned my tendency not to put in description while I draft, yes? It's something I have to watch very closely, otherwise I write action, dialogue, action, dialogue, and on and on like that.

Initially, featureless people would float in space until I'd realize I'd forgotten to situate things, then I'd throw in a nice, solid block of exposition and description to compensate. Yeah, not good. Let me tell you, green trees waving in a gentle breeze ain't the most inspiring of descriptions. Going on for an entire paragraph about it is the surest way to torture a reader. So I watched to make certain description happened in the most organic way possible. But...eh.

Then Mr. Hansen came along, and I got it. I understood that I couldn't simply say Place A exists, Place B exists, and Protagonist is walking from one to another. I needed Protagonist to experience her surroundings specifically from her point of view. To notice how the the drizzle is frizzing her hair or how the otherwise wonderful scent of coffee from a nearby shop is soured by the full garbage cans on the sidewalk that should have been picked up by now, dammit. To stop walking past buildings and start walking past a row of flat-roofed nineteen seventies eye-sores faced in Brickmaster beige. 

You don't need to be specific about everything, but you do need to be specific about something. If it can be something definitive, like one building that illustrates the neighborhood, so much the better. 

The same goes for people. Which is better? She had a round face with deep-set blue eyes complimented by black hair. Or: She wore workout clothes like a uniform, always black, white, and hot pink. Her thick black hair was perpetually slicked back into a ponytail and her face was almost as muscular as her calves.

No, seriously. Which is better? I've got this character...

Shh...I'm Working

I've been in overdrive trying to ready my newest manuscript for the conference workshop. All I can say is it's a good thing they're expecting draft quality (really, they told me so), because back in January I, uh, I started over. *ahem*

Yes, yes, I know. Work through it! Don't abandon that baby! But, crikey, I've started that sucker from scratch four times and the protagonist still has no voice. I haven't given up on it; I still love the premise, but I've got to figure out what's wrong and there was no way on God's green Earth it was going to be finished in time. So I'm making nice with the chippy I had going on the side. That one has voice to spare.

And let me tell you, I am having such a blast with this one. I've gotten twice as far with my drafting in half the time. It's moody and has a weird structure and is told from three different perspectives. *sigh* Love. It. It may never sell for all the weird, but boy howdy do I love it. Which is all I can ask.

Hm. This seems short. Allow me to refer you to this, which is sweet and a tiny bit sad, but mostly funny in a bookish sort of way.

Oh, and for those of you who wondered -- I'm done licking my Superbowl wounds. We'll get 'em next year. (There are no fair-weather fans in my house. Those are my boys, win or lose. And yes, I mean MY. I'm very possessive.)

How was your weekend? (I already know about you, Megan. ;)  )

WTSWIH: James Michener Edition

It's Friday! It's Friday!

Phew.

Have you ever had one of those weeks where everything went wrong or ran out or spilled all over you and the only person you had to blame was yourself? Yeah, that.

Anyway...

What They Said:
"I'm not a very good writer, but I'm an excellent rewriter." ~ James Michener

What I Heard:
You don't have to get it right the first time. That's why we call it a "draft." Relax. Regards, Jimmy

Are you a fiddler? I am. Due to my *ahem* prolific breeding, I often forget where the heck I left off in my writing. Therefore, I never just sit down and begin. I sit down, read what I wrote the day before (sometimes more), fiddle with it for a half-hour or so, then start writing. I'm terrible.

The thing is, I know it's a draft. I know it's not supposed to be perfect. I'm down with Hemingway ("The first draft of anything is shit."). So I try not to reread stuff, which is pointless because, seriously, if it's been more than ten minutes, I've had to break up three fights already and I've forgotten. So I read. And then I obsess, because that phrasing in chapter four isn't clear and I know it and it's staring at me and I just. Can't. Leave it. Alone.

I mentioned in Tuesday's comments that my desktop background is a piece of advice I saw on Absolute Write once. I don't remember the name of the author (sorry, but thanks, whoever you are!), but he (I'm pretty sure it was a he) said: Deploy the artillery first, then send in the sniper.

Every time I start to fiddle, I give myself a mental kick in the pants and remind myself that a) no one gets it right the first time, and b) even guys like James Michener and Ernest Hemingway have to go back and blow up their manuscripts. And I relax. A little.

What about you? Do you fiddle as you go or save it all for the end?