That's How I Roll, Baby

This weekend, Allison Brennan was at the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers' Conference.  And I missed it - again.  One of these days, I'll see her give her ever-changing No Plotters Allowed speech - wherein she gives the very important message "There is no one right way to write, but there is a right way for you."

I'd even go one further - at least for my process - and add 'there's a right way for you and each of your books'.  Because for me, every book's journey from start to finish is different.  Hell, sometimes every draft takes a different journey because what worked for me on one draft doesn't necessarily work on the next.

Like Allison, I'm not a plotter.  I've tried that and it sucks the voice right out of my work.  I'm also not really a pantser, per se.  Most of the time, I do know where I'm headed - even if the end destination can change.  I call myself a plansterer.  (i.e. plot a little, plan a little, pants a lot)  It works for me.

Sometimes I wish it worked a little more uniformly, but hey, that's how I roll, baby.  I'm all over the place - that is as much so as one who writes linearly can be.  Linear is about the only rule I stick to.  My brain doesn't work when the string is jumbled. 

Anyway, like I was saying, my process is different for every book and sometimes for every draft.  It's not necessarily the most efficient way to work, but it does work.  Take the WIP Djinnocide.  She's an ugly beast.  She's also the product of my 2009 NaNo - I think... wait let me check...  Yup.  Started in September of '09, but didn't really get rolling until November. 

Draft 1 - wrote straight through, no stopping.
Draft 2 - tweaked here and there
Draft 3 -  tweaked here and there - began to hate it a little
Draft 4 - sent to CP and betas - they liked it a little, and I hated it more
Draft 5 - added words and tried a different tack - still hated it
Draft 6 - total rewrite, changing POV from third limited to 1st
Draft 7 - tiny tweaking until around chapter 4 and then started over
Draft 8 - Major tweaking and reader input
Draft 9 - Polishing
Draft 10 - Final Draft - totally polished - love it love it.  Ready to query.

I finished the tenth draft a year ago.  We won't go into how it fared during the query phase.  Suffice it to say, if it had done well, I wouldn't still be kvetching about it.

So now, last night, I started the 11th draft - which would, in reality, be Do-Over #3.  I found my groove, I think, with the way this draft wants to be approached.  Too bad for me, the groove is hand-written in a notebook.  I only got one page of printed manuscript rewritten yesterday.  At this rate, it could be next year before I'm done.  Ugh.  Dirty bastard manuscript.

But if that what it takes to get this damn book done, I'll do it.  'Cuz that's how I roll, Baby.  ;o)

Breaking Out the Resolve

I've never been a champion housekeeper.  At any given time, you'll find a layer of dust on damn near everything and clumps of kitty hair sprinkled across my almost-white carpet.  (It'd be lighter if I cleaned more - trust me.)  Still, I'm a lot better at this than I used to be. 

Back when I lived in Michigan, it was so much worse (as evidenced by the above pic).  Then, you'd find a pile of dishes in the sink, laundry - both clean and dirty - in mountains around the place, and clutter everywhere.  Of course then I was a single mom working all day as an outside sales rep and at night as a computer consultant/web designer.  During the times I wasn't working or momming, I didn't have the energy to clean.  And on the weekends, the mounds of filth were just overwhelming. 

You see, when you have such a big project, it's hard to know where to start and you get tired just thinking about all the tasks you have to do before you can call it done.

Or I do, anyway.

Which is why sitting here this morning with the full intent of tackling Djinnocide, I'm stalled.  The manuscript is so damn messy that I don't know where to start.  I know... Begin at the beginning and go all the way through to the end.  But there are so many things from the middle that need to be addressed closer to the beginning.  My CP is still sending me comments from the middle chapters that need to be weaved in earlier... 

And I'm tired just thinking about it.

Yesterday I hand-washed the carpet here.  I started out just doing a spot cleaning, but every spot I cleaned just made me realize how dirty the rest of the carpet was.  Nothing like a spot of nearly white to show how gray the rest of it is.  So, rather than go through the expense of renting a machine, I got out the Resolve and took on the living room.  Two cans of Resolve and a boatload of sore muscles later, half the room looks almost presentable.

It's the same with this manuscript.  Last year, I started out spot cleaning and ended up rewriting the whole damn thing.  This year?  I thought I had a relatively clean manuscript, but now every spot my CP points out makes me realize just how dingy this sucker is. 

It can be beautiful.  There is a wonderful clean book under all that mess.  I just need to push up my sleeves, break out the Resolve, and start scrubbing.  I need to not think about the spots in the hall, or the path of gray in the high traffic areas.  I need to start at one corner and work my way across - hoping nobody tracks anything through the clean parts when I'm done.

And that no unsightly tufts of cat hair find their way into the story in the middle of the night.

Why, Eh?

I don't write YA.  I don't know why.  I just can't seem to get my head into that mindset.  Oh, I've tried.  Originally, the MC in Blink was in her thirties - but no one seems to be buying adult dystopian right now.  (Or if they are, I've totally missed the titles.)  The best I could do was to drop her into her early twenties and claim that her futuristic society stunted her maturity.  But she still came off as older instead of younger. 

I think the reason is that I've forgotten most of my YA years.  In part because of my accident - which blew out most of my childhood - and in part because I'm repressing those harsh times.  I didn't have a happy run from 14-18 and if I have to forget something, I'd rather forget that.  Also, I don't think I was the typical YA.  I didn't think like a YA when I was a YA.

I tried borrowing from my teenage daughter.  But that's a whole other bag of different.  Like me, she's not typical.  She was homeschooled through her YA years, which meant she didn't have much interaction with kids her own age.  Instead, she was interacting with adults.  She thought like an adult, talked like an adult and acted like an adult way before she could claim her voter registration card (which came in the mail last week). 

Sure, I act like a kid a lot.  I'm in my seventeenth childhood, after all.  But that doesn't cut the mustard for writing YA either.  I'm so out of touch with the teens, even when I'm acting like a kid, I'm not acting like them.  And so, my attempts at YA fall flat.  I can't get the voice.

Bleh.

I guess I'll just have to live with the fact that the genre of my heart is currently a YA fortress I don't have the keys for, and hope that someday adults will once again be open to the 'what ifs' of speculative fiction.  Until then, I'll keep writing and trying to sell my urban fantasy or my suspense to people who appreciate it.

Or maybe I'll tackle that MG fantasy I've been playing with.  If I can't go YA, maybe dropping down to a younger age - one more in keeping with my mental maturity some days - will be a good fit. 

I know a lot of my followers and visitors write YA or MG.  Why do you?  Have you tried to write adult or are you strictly in the minds of the younger readers?  If you don't write YA or MG, have you ever thought about it?

Unmotivated

Okay, I do care.  Let's just say I spent the day cleaning my daughter's bathroom and it sucked anything resembling motivation right the hell out of me.

And you pretty much know how unmotivated you are about working when you're cleaning.  Or at least, that's how I know.

On the upside, I may be unmotivated, but I don't look like these people...

**Image Deleted was an old photo of two unhappy people**

Could they possibly GET any unhappier?

How are you?  Motivated?  Unmotivated?  Wishing you were as happy as those two up there? 


(And for the record, I'm only unmotivated about social media today.  I did get a thousand words typed.  Now I must go watch the Packers beat the Saints.)

Randomosity - Labor Day Edition

Happy Labor Day, Everyone.  Go work.  Or go don't work - however you want to celebrate.

My cat is suffering from a lack of litter.  Yesterday I cleaned her box before I realized I didn't have enough litter to give her the proper thickness for her liking.  Now it sounds like she's digging to China in there.  It kinda reminds me of the Seinfeld episode where Elaine's in the public restroom and the gal in the next stall can't spare a square.  Poor Kira would use the whole roll if she was human.

Last week I was in the Dollar General and they had the neatest pens by the cash register.  They're breast cancer awareness pens - so they're like pink and junk.  The clippy part says "Fight Like A Girl!" and every time you click the pen, the message in this little window changes.  Right now, mine says "Fight with Love and Courage!"  I bought a matching pen for a good friend of mine who's Mom is a breast cancer survivor.  Now we're like pen sisters.

Ever since Twitter came out I've been fighting against joining because I know me and I get addicted to stuff like that.  And then Roxanne St. Claire asked me to join a hashtag thingie over there.  I almost didn't, but then I was all like "When a best selling author asks you to do something, you don't say 'sorry I can't' - you just do it."  (Unless it's like immoral or criminal, then I wouldn't - but this was just Twitter.)  So, of course, I joined and now I'm addicted. 

I've been thinking about printing some of my photos and trying to sell them at the local craft fair.  Or maybe I could use Etsy.  Some of them are pretty good and I think people might like to hang them on their walls.  Problem is, if I start devoting time to crafting photos into something saleable, it'll be another reason to neglect my writing.  I don't need another reason.  I have enough of those to fill the Titanic.

Today's philosophical message comes from Dilbert's boss who screams... "STOP MAKING MEDIOCRITY SOUND BAD!!"

What random things do you have to discuss today?

Whatcha doin' this weekend?

It's awfully quiet around the interwebz.  I mean, quieter than usual for a weekend.  Must be that everyone's out enjoying the long weekend.  Me?  I'm still here.  The long weekend is just another weekend with an extra day added on.

People keep asking me - whatcha doin' this weekend?  Got anything special planned?

Uhh, no.  The only thing out of the ordinary is that I have to gather up Daughter's winter stuff because I'm headed her way later this week and dropping it off on my way through.  We're doing lunch - if there's time.

The rest of the weekend will be spent reading and watching TV.  Oh and editing.  Must edit.  Didn't edit yesterday, but I seriously need to light a fire under my buns or I'll never feel like doing NaNo in a couple months.  Must work.  After all it's Labor Day Weekend.

Does anyone else think it's funny that we celebrate Labor by taking an extra day off and relaxing?

Oh, and since everyone has asked me... Whatcha doin' this weekend?  Got anything special planned?

Oh, The Excitement

My life is kinda boring.  I mean, I live in a small town, I pretty much keep to myself, and the highlight of most days is a trip to the grocery store (a place I visit so frequently, it's like I'm Norm from Cheers).  Excitement here takes the smallest shapes sometimes.  I mean, seriously, I squee when someone gets pulled over for speeding - especially in front of my house.  (Because, ya know, they drive too damn fast most days and some little kid is going to get killed.  I've already buried three cats and three squirrels from this stretch of paved hell.)

So, anyway, here's the latest excitement from my bass-ackwards corner of the world...

Yesterday, I saved a lost kitten* from certain doom.  I stepped outside for a smoke and this tiny black bundle was running along the gutter on the other side of the street.  Some woman was kinda chasing it. It didn't belong to her, but she didn't want to see it get hit.  Too bad for her, the kitten ran every time she got close.  Being the cat whisperer, I stepped in.  I caught it when it stopped to wade through a sizable puddle.  You should've seen the spunky little bugger get his fur all up and hiss at me.  I just talked to it and then snatched it by the scruff of its neck.  Last seen, stuffed into a shoebox the other woman was holding.  She'll take care of it - after all, she was the one who stopped to rescue it.  I just assisted.  (And yes, I would've kept him, but I can't have any more cats.)

Last week, there was a train accident.  The morning passenger train out of Nebraska derailed just this side of the border.  Nine people were injured - no fatalities.  Considering what could've happened, I'm happy to know that last part.

The biggest news around here this time of year is which steer took the blue ribbon at the fair, whether it was the biggest money earner at the auction, and who'll be making burgers out of it come fall.

Is it any wonder I spend most of my time inside my head, making up exciting things for other people to experience?

Seriously, though, living out in the backside of BFE isn't all bad.  Sure, it's boring, but it does give me a mostly distraction-free life.  And after spending most of my life near one major city or another, it's nice to not have to worry about traffic, the murder rate, long lines...  There are certainly worse places to live.

What about you?  What excitement is going on where you live right now?  Do you live for excitement or could you exist happily in Boredom, USA?  And lastly - perhaps most importantly - do you think a writer has to live in the center of excitement to write about it, or can a gal fake her way through?


*the above pic is not the kitten I saved, but it looked exactly like that - just dirtier and hissing. *IMAGE DELETED*