Tag Archives: wip

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Hello from Grouchland

I’ve tried for days to write a blog post with a little substance. That’s something I do once in a while to keep you on your toes. But the truth is I’ve grown grouchier each of those days. I don’t know why. I can name a few things that have contributed to it, but not what started it.

Contribution #1:  As I said in my last post, work on my WIP was going well and continued for another two days. Then I realized that even after I add in the remaining pre-written scenes, flesh them out a bit, and fill-in any needed connecting scenes, I’m not going to make my 80,000 word goal. Grrrr.

Contribution #2:  What I consider the best story I’ve written has shown itself to be lacking. When I know a piece has problems, I expect feedback to confirm that. But when I think I’ve written something the best I know how, and that’s not good enough, it undermines my confidence. I start questioning all my work. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to assess my work correctly. Grumble.

Contribution #3:  I’m trapped in an alien body. For most of my adult life, people assumed I was younger than my years because of my skin. Now, it’s as though all those years caught up with me at once. So far, my face is not too bad, but that’s because I need to lose weight. I shudder to think how much more crepey my skin will appear as I deflate. Gripe.

Contribution #4:  Ominous people talk to me all night. I love to dream because I get story ideas from them. Of course, I have to remember the dream first. Lately, all I remember is that I dreamed and it wasn’t pleasant. At most, I retain a glimpse of the setting or a snatch of an event. This morning, I sat up before I was fully awake, and the words someone had just spoken stayed in my head long enough for me to grab the notepad and pen I keep by my bed. These were the words:

“The evil men do to themselves is often far greater than is done to them.”

The voice sounded remarkably like Frasier Crane’s. Ha! My subconscious, the psychiatrist. Okay, so analyzing that, I assume I’ve brought this grouchiness on myself. How? WHY? Grinding of teeth.

Oh, I know, tomorrow something fabulous could happen and I’ll zip right out of Grouchland. Maybe 30,000 words will drop out of the sky for my WIP, and a few little tweaks will make that story shine, and … well … I guess I’m stuck with this skin, but hey, it’s better than no skin.

As for bringing this grouchiness on myself—NAH—I think I’ve figured it out. I’m blaming the eclipse.

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Where in the world is that scene I wrote?

Thrice in the last few weeks, I’ve searched my notes in vain for a first-draft scene I’d written for my WIP. When I say first-draft scene, I mean dialogue with a few actions in place. And when I say thrice, I mean for three different scenes.

I have both a large notebook and a small one I carry in my purse, which I use to take notes when I’m away from the computer. Nothing in either. I create computer files, specifically for notes and partial scenes, for each novel and story I work on. Nothing. How can that be?

Every time I look in the mirror, my gray hair reminds me my brain is old, so these missing scenes freak me out. I’m determined to find the culprit because I really don’t want to think it’s my imagination. Did I “write” them while in the shower or driving? I often get inspiration or a breakthrough doing those things. Did I dream these scenes?

I don’t believe it’s my imagination because I can still see them clearly on my mental movie screen. Now, though, the sound is broken up. I haven’t had any computer problems (or SUE oops!) to explain their disappearance. So, apparently, I only thought I wrote them out.

Oh, wait! Maybe there’s a scene thief on the loose. Yeah, it must be that. I’m on the case.

And speaking of the world: The print version of The Brevity of Roses can now be ordered directly through the Amazon stores in the UK, Germany, France, Spain, and Italy. So, yay!

In other news: What I love about my community of writers is our willingness to help each other succeed. Often we’re not sure how much we actually help, but sometimes we get a special thank you to let us know how much our efforts were appreciated.

Dana Mason’s debut novel Dangerous Embrace is the first in a contemporary suspenseful romance series and will debut this October. A couple of days ago she said some nice things about me—elegant superhero?—and she awarded me this Random Act of Kindness award. Isn’t that sweet of her? Don’t forget to put Dangerous Embrace on your watch list!


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A River of Words

One thing I often wish for writers in my tweets and comments is that they will be blessed with a river of words. That’s how it feels to me when the mental dam breaks and sets the story free.

Unfortunately, I seem to be an expert dam builder, though I can’t say I know how I do that. I can never see a specific pattern leading up to these obstructions. Once I build that dam, I’m just as much in the dark on how to tear it down.

I want to write. I need to write. I cannot write.

That frustration only reinforces the dam, which leads to more frustration, which reinforces—well, you get the picture. I lay blame on this and that and the other. I distract myself. I pretend patience. I use force, trickling out a few words at a time. Eventually, I decide I have no talent and should give up.

For a while now, I’ve pretended—if I positively affirm that I’m a writer, that work on my WIP is going just swell, thank you, it will be so. Ahem. I only know that about ten days ago, I faced up to a dam of terrifying proportions. I felt like a total fraud. I was convinced I was a one-book writer. The voice in my head was screaming, “Shut up. Shut up! JUST. SHUT. UP.”

So I did. I shut up. I gave up. And that seemed entirely logical. Gloriously freeing. Long overdue. I decided to give away one more copy of Brevity, and then quietly slink away.

I planned another blog, where I could post my thoughts under a fictitious name. I would write about anything EXCEPT writing. It would be like a virtual witness relocation plan. Maybe a few people would find that blog and I could start a new online life. Eventually, if I were lucky, I would look back at my experience as a novelist with amusement.

Only, that’s not what happened.

What I thought were just my usual allergy problems turned out to be a virus, and this one settled in my chest, which for me, means a deep, wrenching cough. Naturally, this frequently interrupted my sleep. I spent a few nights in a sort of half-dream state, in which, every time I woke a bit more with a coughing spell, I “heard” people talking to me.

Sometime during the third night, I realized the talkers were the characters in the WIP I had so recently shelved. The next day, I realized they were still talking and I sat down at the keyboard. See that photo at the top of this post? Yeah, that’s what it feels like. I have so many words rushing at me now that I have to force them to stop, so I can take a break, eat a meal, go to sleep.

I’m in writer heaven. My river of words is a roaring, rushing, riotous joy I seriously doubted I would ever experience again.

For every writer reading this, I wish you a river of your own.

Photo credit:http://www.dreamstime.com/rushing-river-imagefree193893

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Not writer’s block, it’s an abduction!

For the first time in eons, I’ve decided not to watch American Idol this season. I doubt they’ll miss me. I’m not in their target demographic, nor am I an educated listener. Quite often, I think someone gave a wonderful performance, and then the judges tear it to pieces. And I confess, I’ve only ever bought one winner’s CD, and that was Daughtry’s. So, yeah. No Idol this year.

I will be watching Mad Men when it returns because it’s great writing, but I really need to limit my distractions, and watching TV is low on my priority list anyway. I have far too many distractions at a time when I need NONE. During lunch with a writer friend last week, we talked about missing the fire we had when we wrote our last books, when the words came so fast we could barely keep up. I’ve had little success stoking that on my WIP.

Recently, I’ve read some blog posts about “excuses” for not writing. Needing long periods of quiet, uninterrupted time was mentioned as a bogus excuse. Well … maybe for those writers it is. I know many writers have small children and manage to write prolifically. I know many writers have day jobs and manage to write prolifically. I’m not one of those writers.

Last year, my schedule changed drastically. Gone, instantly, were the 40 hours per week of being alone, in silence, to write. I knew it might be harder to do, but I thought I could carry on. After all, I had this writing thing down pat. Maybe I could have if the stresses of those circumstances had not increased my fibromyalgia symptoms. It sent them raging, to be honest. Physical pain, I can work with, through, or around, but some of my symptoms are brain related, and that’s a bummer when you’re trying to write.

At times, my brain is foggy. I see the scene, I just can’t quite translate it to words. Like fish in water, the words are right there, but they slip out of my fingers when I try to grab them. Sometimes I can only see the shadows in a scene and when I look for the objects that cast them, they jumble and I can’t make sense of anything. It’s like The Muse is teasing me. Cruelly.

Then there’s the ADD-like symptoms. I open my file, type a few words, and then I find myself in the kitchen making tea. Or checking the pantry for dinner ingredients. Or googling for toothpaste without sodium laurel sulfate. Or playing a Facebook game. Or—believe it or not—cleaning out the junk drawer. Why did I stop writing? I have no clue. It just happens. Abducted by my alien brain.

When I realize what’s happened, I sit back down. I may write a paragraph or two at a time, so that’s progress of a sort, but the pace is horribly frustrating. It’s not as if I’m a literary writer who turns out a masterpiece every decade or two. So, the writing’s not going too well, but it’s not for lack of trying.

By the way, if any of you fibro suffers have a suggestion for fighting the fog and lack of concentration, I’d love to hear it.

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Still trying to find my way back

I feel as if I’m drifting in a small boat through the fog, drowsy, picking up snatches of muffled conversation as I pass by. But in reality the boat has docked. The fog has cleared. So why can’t I wake up? Quick, someone slap me.

Little did I know when I took a break to prepare for Christmas that it would be so hard to get back to work. Even with a painful back (now on the mend) I should be able to wrap my brain around putting one word after another. The spirit is willing, but the mind is weak.

I opened my WIP last night and read through it, but didn’t add anything. It’s not even that I don’t know what scene comes next because I do, several scenes in fact. I’m not discouraged, or blocked, just scatter-brained.

That goes for social media too. I open Twitter, but nothing comes to mind to say. Ditto for Google+. For a few minutes, I lurk, reading what others have to say, and then leave. I can’t even think of anything worthy to say on my Facebook page.

Maybe I need more sleep. Or less caffeine. I need something, that’s for sure. I’m trying not to listen to that voice that’s whispering that maybe this is it. I’ll never write again. *sigh*

I know you’re better disciplined. It’s probably been easy for you to get back to work. And since we’re on the topic, what are you working on exactly?

Photo: The Lady of Shalott by William A. Breakspeare (1872-1903).

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Why use graph paper to write a novel?

As a rule, I don’t write my fiction by hand, and I’ve certainly never written it on graph paper. But recently, in the middle of a session working on my next novel, I went to the supply closet and grabbed my graphing pad. For the next couple of hours, I did my WIP “writing” with pencil and ruler. Why?

I write fiction by “sight”, meaning I have to see it as a mental movie before I can write it out. Several scenes in my new story have characters moving about a large house that I couldn’t quite envision. I had a clear picture of individual rooms, but those rooms’ relation to all the others in the house stayed a bit murky. I needed to draw the floor plan.

That may seem nitpicky, but it bugs me if I can’t picture locations when I read a book. I want to see the “movie” while I read the same way I do when writing. And if I, the writer, don’t visualize the scene clearly, it’s likely my readers won’t either.

I expect I’ll have to map out the grounds around this house too, for logic’s sake. Heck, I might even sketch the exterior of the house for inspiration. That probably won’t figure in the cover art though. I have a different vision for that.

Your turn: Do you use any unusual tools to aid your writing?

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The OMG I Forgot to Start Dinner Shepherd’s Pie

Has this ever happened to you? You opened your WIP, but soon your progress toward the day’s writing goal slowed. so you took a break and opened your email, read your messages, and replied to a few, or several. Then, afraid you were missing something important, you checked in on Twitter for a few minutes. Or longer. You went back to your Word doc, typed a few sentences, deleted a couple, stared into space for a while, and then you opened your blog reader. An hour later—okay, it was longer—you returned to your writing, but, only a few paragraphs on, your friend, or your sister, or your mom phoned.

When the call ended you played a few games of Bejeweled Blitz, or Solitaire, or whatever game you’re addicted to, until it occurred to you a whole new shift of Tweeters had come online. Of course, you needed to check out what they were saying. Oh, yeah … you were supposed to be writing. You checked your word count. Then you checked the clock.

OMG, how did it get to be that late?! You haven’t even started anything for dinner.

Relax, I can help. I cook most of my dinners from scratch—well, more than half—but sometimes I need a hot meal that’s simple and quick, so here’s the recipe for one of my standbys, a quick Shepherd’s Pie. (Unfortunately, the dishing up started before I had time to take the photo.)

1 pound lean ground beef*

Dried minced onion

Celery seed

Worcestershire sauce

1 can mixed vegetables (14-15 oz.)

1 jar of beef gravy (12 oz.)

1 package (24 oz.) prepared mashed potatoes*

Grated romano and parmesan cheese

Grated sharp cheddar cheese (6 oz.)

Heat the oven to 375 degrees. Brown the ground beef. While it’s cooking, drain the mixed vegetables, pour into a 2 qt. casserole, and heat in microwave. When the beef is cooked, drain and add to vegetables. Sprinkle mixture with celery seed, minced onion, and Worcestershire sauce. Stir in about 10 oz. of the gravy. Keep mixture warm. Heat mashed potatoes in microwave and mix in 3-4 tablespoons of parmesan or mixed romano/parmesan cheese. Spread mashed potatoes over beef mixture. Bake for 15 minutes, then sprinkle cheddar over the mashed potatoes and return dish to the oven for 12-15 minutes longer. (Serves 4 adults as main dish.)

* If the meat is frozen, you’ll have to add the time it takes to partially defrost in the microwave and then fry as it continues thawing in the pan.

**Simply Potatoes is the best brand I’ve found.

I can’t match Rachel Ray’s time, but 40 minutes is close, and maybe no one will know you almost forgot to cook dinner.