I'm Alive!

I thought I should put something up here before it gets too stagnant. There's been a lot going on the past month or so -- I have been a busy little bee, if I do say so myself.

First off, my critique partner Thomma Lyn released her debut novel, Mirror Blue!

*squee* I'm so excited for her - the reviews are starting to come in, and I just know people will love the book as much as I did.

In the same vein, I got to meet the fabulous Debbie Mumford in the flesh yesterday. We had a great lunch, talked shop, and she is even cooler in person! Her novella The Silver Casket is releasing from Freya's Bower on August 18th, and I'm totally in love with her cover art. I had the pleasure of reading an early version of this story and highly reccomend it. :)

I've also joined a start-up critique group, run by Lynette Labelle. She's pulled together a good mix of writers and we even have a name: The Rumored Romantics. I'm excited to get started. I've never been a critique group before and look forward to trying out a different venue. You know we writers are always looking for extra sets of eyes. The more opinions the better, in my mind. I haven't decided which project I'll be throwing at these ladies for starters, but I'm sure it will be a fun learning experience.



On the writing front, I'm at the halfway point with my re-write of Inner Eye. As I get closer to the end, the rewrites will be less extensive, so I'm hoping to have this one wrapped up and shelved in the next few weeks. I've submitted it to 3 contests to sort of test the waters. Then, I just have to polish my query packet and start throwing it at some agents. I'm both excited and nervous. I've put A LOT of work into this book, and if it doesn't find a home, that will be hard to swallow. On the flip side, I know the number one thing that keeps people going in this business is believing in themselves, so I do have hope!



I've done a little bit of reading recently, but not a lot. I think the most surprising was the Vampire Queen duo by Joey W. Hill. I enjoyed the Storywitch's writing so much, I even went and bought one of her early Ellora's Cave titles. The emotional depth, well-woven backstories, and top-notch writing have really made me re-think a lot of my own prejudices against the erotic romance genre (which I didn't even realize I had until I was surprised by how good these books were. *g*).



I'm still working down my list of exciting releases I mentioned in the spring. Devon Monk's 2nd in her Ally Beckstrom series lived up to my excitement. I have yet to read Lover Avenged, though from the sounds of it, BDB fans are pleased.



I've decided to nail myself down with an actual deadline for my new blog/website. Rain or shine, it will launch August 15th, so I've got my work cut out for me. I'll try to ease into the blogoshere between now and then, and spread the word. I have a few ideas for a little launch party. We'll see.



Time to get rolling!


~G

Quick and Dirty

Update time!

Rewrites are coming along. I've done some major restructuring and have finessed the first 5 chapters into something I'm proud of. I also toiled (and toiled) over a synopsis and now have a full contest submission packet of Inner Eye ready to go. I'm planning on entering it into some contests in May.

Other than that, I've been playing with a lot of graphics stuff, getting ready to make the transition over to wordpress. I've been out of the graphics groove for too long, it is actually a thrill to get back into it. Ideas springing up all over the place. Whether or not I can master php well enough to make them a reality. =D

Oooooh! And I'm going to my first GSRWA meeting this weekend - I'm sooo excited! I was going to go last month, but I was heavy into the final chapters of my WIP and rudimentary hygeine was a challange. (Probably too much information, but still true.)

Other than that, I've been trying to take advantage of every second of sunshine, because around here, you never know when you're going to see it again.

The Joys of Manuscript Revision, or, All Good Writing was Written More Than Once

I swore I would never be that 'type' of writer. And I say that like there are 'types' of writers, which really their aren't - everyone is an individual.

But when I read that a favorite author of mine writes with a process along the lines of, Write it once, keep half of it, write it again, keep 2/3 of it, write it again, keep 3/4 of it, I laughed.

That's waaaaay too inefficient, said Gwen. I'll just write my books once, and do it right the first time. I'll use an outline, and be way more organized....

*cough*

Yeah. Maybe there is something to being a professional at what you do, after all.

I wrote my book once. I even had an outline. And it took me 45K words more than I thought I needed to tell the story. Now I need dig for the gold, and re-write the rest.

But it should be an adventure . . . . And result in a much better finished product. So, I've called in some help - bought some books, and I'll be using those as I sort of experiment with this whole 'rewrite' thing, to see how it works for me.

Because all of us writers are individuals -- even if some laws are universal, like this one:

All good writing was written more than once.

Consider this post a warning for the forthcoming whining.

The Sun Found Seattle!

This weekend was glorious! Blue skies, warm temperatures, and the trees started budding overnight. It made me feel sorta like this.

Despite the arrival of spring (Finally! Did I mention we got snow on April 1st?), what did I do all weekend? Pretty much spent the whole thing locked away in the writing cave, as I closed in on the end of my first draft of my second novel, Inner Eye.

My husband has taken to calling me his vampire. And when he did manage to drag me out of the house (baited only by a promise to visit B&N), I realized that's not too far off base. I'm so pale I glow. =P

The good news - 1st draft is DONE!
The bad news - I'm 45K words over budget, so the work is just beginning.

Over the past few weeks, in preparation for the 're-write' phase forthcoming, I have read several great books on the craft. I plan to do a blog post on each of them. And to tie myself down to a new reviewing schedule that I think is much more doable. I also plan to get some more free reads posted, and to start to chronicle my journey through my WIP. Perhaps my experience of what works/what doesn't will be useful to someone.

I'll let this post stand for now as a placeholder: changes are coming. In fact, now that I have a drafted story to work with, the pressure is off of writing for a bit and I'll be putting some effort into a total website/blog re-design and possible move to Wordpress.

Hope the sun is shining down on you too!

Am I really THAT Predictable?

So . . .
I'm not completely back in the writing saddle yet, but I'm brushing the horse down and tightening the straps. I've been slowly trying to turn my spare mind-power towards my WIP. And just writing in general. I'm more on the general, universal stuff at the moment. I've gone back and read a lot of my old stuff - just for fun. And in doing so, in a detatched way, I've discovered some sorta funny patterns. I've noticed them before with other writers, but never about myself really. It's funny how the subconscious works, yet not surprising.
Here are a few things that pop up repeatedly in my stories and bear some thematic significance or are otherwise just a common prop:

A rusty old pickup. - I think I've mentioned that my dad has always had one. I guess they must symbolize something to me. *scratches head*

A necklace. - This is a little too easy - a charmed necklace, or a piece of gifted jewelry used as a prop to bring memories to the surface, blah, blah. I'm going to have to expand my reperatoire here.

Car chases and/or accidents. - I think this is because I am afraid of car crashes and hence, really high speeds.

Claustraphobic instances. - I guess to me, being too cramped to move just amps up the panic factor. *shrugs*

Grey eyes. - Do they exist in nature? I can't tell ya. But I in my worlds, grey eyes is a fairly prominent genetic allele. Heh.

Kendo. - I'm sorry, I just think sword-wielding with style (no, I'm not talking about fencing) is hawt.

Rain. - I'm sure you can figure it out. (Hint: Gwen lives in Seattle)

Dreams. - I know it's cliche. *sigh* I have a hard time getting away from dreams though. What are the alternatives? How else do you set up people meeting before they actually meet, or rationalize someone turning down a road they normally wouldn't, or, or . . . *sigh* I know. I know. I know.

Auras. - Almost as bad as the dreams. But . . . I like the idea of using colors to interpret other character's moods. It's quick, and once the audience gets the drift, it's like . . . a shortcut. Right?

What do these things say about me? Is my imagination too limited? I'm too narrow-minded? Or maybe just overly analytical. Hmm... How about you - do you have any commonalities in your writing? Notice them in your reading? Think about it for a minute.

My other question is - is this a *bad* thing - or is it sorta cool? I mean, only people who had read everything I've written would notice. In a way - it would just be between me and them. I'm leaning towards cool . . .

Unwillingly Dammed

MISSING MY WIP

I'll try to make this post more ponderous and less whiny, but I can't make any guarantees to that effect. As you can probably tell, my blogging has been non-existent lately. That's fitting in right along with all other forms of writing. The honest-to-goodness truth, not an excuse but a reason, is simply this: I haven't had the time.

I'm the sort of person who over-extends herself on a regular basis. Being short on time is something I'm used to. Being under a deadline? No problem. Having lots of work piled up on me? Yeah, that's old hat. Running a website, two and a half blogs and a forum in addition to twittering and poking my nose in various cyber-spaces? Well... yeah.

But somehow, my firm purchase on the actual work of writing (the art of applying but to chair and fingers to keyboard) has slid towards non-existent. I'm chewing through lots of books on the bus ride to and from my new job - but that is really just making my hunkering to write even worse. And here comes the whining...

A lot of writers complain that they sit down and the words won't come. Or that they find themselves shuffling writing to the bottom of their list and making excuses *not* to do it. At the moment, I envy those writers. If I had the time to talk myself out of writing . . . well, I'd be writing. Sadly, my case is something else entirely. The words are there. The ideas are flowing. They are just piling up behind the dam built by my brain in order to let me deal with the more pertinent issue of . . . well, survival. (At the moment.) I have so much work to do, I can't even allow myself to dawdle in my make believe worlds, or to ponder characters or stories, or anything. I'm effectively cut-off from my creative flow. And not by choice. It's like a forced block. And it's frustrating as hell.

It comes down to this: I miss my WIP. I *WANT* to dive into it, to finish the story of the people I've come to care deeply about in the past months. I *WANT* to add in my new ideas, and yes, yes - even to trudge through edits because I know the editing process inside-out now and know that the end-product will be more than worth it. But . . . woe is me . . . I can't do that. Yet.

Soon. Soon, I keep telling myself. I miss all of you guys too - if there is anyone out there still reading this. I'll say the same to you. Soon I will be filling your head with fluff, or maybe even something more substantial, telling your what I've read and what I thought, expanding my reperatoire of writing-issues, finally tackling the projects I've been talking 'bout for months, and generally poking my nose in your business again. Soon.

Signed,
Unwillingly Dammed Writer

Gosh, Golly, Gee . . .

Some of you may have noticed I've been MIA. Things were a little rough there for a while. It all started about a month and a half ago when I lost my wallet and I've been floundering since, just trying to keep my head above water. My laptop died, I quit my job, and my cat got diabetes. *sigh*

I'm happy to announce I think that bout of ill luck (hey, I'm all for the universe being in balance - if it means it has to screw with me sometimes, so be it) is officially OVER!

I'm writing this post from my brand spankin' new Macbook (yeah, baby, yeah!). I have a freelance graphic design job to float me for the next month and a half until I find something permanent (and the job prospects are looking up from a few weeks ago). This also means my graphic design business, which I started two years ago, is now officially in business (website to come). AND, to top it all off, I got some really great news on Friday:

Cloak of Deceit, my first completed novel, has finaled in the FTHWA Golden Gateway Contest. My first sub to an RWA contest, and I finaled! It feels like Christmas. I'm ecstatic with them apples. And really, really glad to be back on course.

So . . . I'm back in the saddle and in the mood to celebrate! You got any good news to share? Hit me up! If you don't, I'm gonna look like this . . .

Writing Reference Series #1

I started a new series of Wiley Wednesday posts on several writing-craft books. The first one, on 'The Elements of Style' by Strunk & White, is posted over here on the Writer's Retreat blog.

Familiar Fate

I've finally finished the novella I've been working on the past month-plus. Something so short shouldn't have taken me so long, but more than half the time has been spent revising and cutting it down. To be quite honest, it only took 4 days to draft.

But I'm happy to tell you I finally shaved it down to BELOW word count (it comes in at 14.5/15K), sweat bullets over the blurb, and after a lot of pussy-footing around, nailed myself down to a title.

Introducing my first completed piece of the Zyne Legacy universe . . .

Familiar Fate

Scarlett Edgewood is a fiercely independent Zyne Ward witch, and her shields extend far beyond her metaphysical gifts. After the unexplained death of her parents, she built a fortress around her heart and dedicated her life to completing their work. On her quest for an ancient Divan, a book of legendary power, she traces the origins of a stolen amulet into the thick of the Mayan jungle. She's close. But the forces of destiny have other plans. On the precipice of achieving everything she's always worked for, Scarlett discovers something she never thought she’d desire – a savior, a warrior, and a lover who penetrates all her carefully constructed defenses.

Rook's mission is simple: find the amulet, retrieve the book, return to Khaos. But the half-breed Wielder demon's first assignment to the mortal plane proves more difficult than anticipated. After centuries serving the Legion Army and denying his weaker half, he's not prepared for the powerful emotions associated with assuming human form. With only four days to complete his task or perish, Rook falters when he encounters the Zyne witch who holds the amulet. Scarlett’s beauty and strength disarm him, arousing conflicting desires. Chief among them is a longing so deep he might be willing to sacrifice his mission, his rank, or even his life to quench it.

Motivation Schmotivation

I put up a lengthy post of a two-part series on motivation and goals over on the Writer's Retreat Blog today. Check it out here.

And for frick's sake . . . I just realized it's June. *bugeyes*

Did it sneak up on anyone else?

Quest for Balance . . .

I'm rambling about how to balance writing with your personal life over at the Writer's Retreat Blog today.

Link

Introducing Wiley Wednesdays

The Writer's Retreat Group has a new blog where we feature flash fiction, and varied posts by our members on a rotating schedule. It's updated regularly, so check it out sometime:

Writer's Retreat Blog

I'm over there today with a 'Wiley Wednesday' post - a weekly commentary on writing craft. My post is about VOICE - or what I've gathered about it so far.

Sven Says SWEAT!!!

GRRRRR! *makes mean muscle-flexing face*

I decided to join some fellow divas in the 70 Days of Sweat Challenge. I was a little wary, but I really think something like this will help kick my butt into gear, so I'm going for it. Also, there's a great supportive group of talented writers there for inspiration.

Click on the link to visit the site, where there's a list of sweaters who'd welcome your encouragement!

B-C-E

After my recent flogging, a discussion ensued in the Writer's Retreat Forum. While it was private, it got me thinking, and I've included some of it here for ponderance's sake.

The discussion was regarding what level of 'harshness' is helpful to a writer. Being the analytical type that I am, I first felt a need to define terms.

B-C-E : The process of beta-reading, critiquing, or editing creative fiction. So, are those all the same thing? Not in my mind. Ideally, I think it's great to have one of each, only in the reverse order. Here's what I mean (and I do know that my definitions might not be what you had in mind) . . .

An edit takes something in its raw form, helps tighten it, pick out holes, re-work sequencing, pacing, etc.. It also corrects typos, grammar errors, spelling, homophones, and the like. Basically, it takes the bare bones of a piece and straightens them out.

A critique takes things a step farther, and works on craft: story structure, voice, characterizations, world building - the real meat of a story. It would also be a time to provide more creative feedback and stimulate the writer to expand or clarify passages.

A beta-read is similar to a beta-test. It takes the work in its near final form for a dry run. Ideally, your beta-reader is someone that is in your target audience, and can give feedback on what works and what doesn't. It's less craft oriented, less structured, and based more on the overall 'feel' of the piece.

Various definitions of these abound, and to some people they might even be the same thing, but for clarity, that is how I segregate them. I'm not really sure where a publishing editor fits in on this scale, since I haven't worked with one before. But my guess is that a copy-editor 'edits' and an editor editor 'crits/betas'. I'll let you know when I find out, lol.

So, the statement that started the discussion was something along the lines of 'you have to be willing to take a certain degree of harshness in order to grow as a writer'. That was me. I'll be honest, I love criticism. To me, it's the gateway to improvement . . . the rite of passage to my ultimate goal, to be a successful author. Some people disagree - particularly with the 'harshness' part. So, let's take a look at that.

1. Everyone knows that you have to have a thick skin to make it in this business. That's not to say that being mean for the sake of 'toughening someone up' is helpful. To the contrary, budding writers are usually fragile and unsure, and need to be encouraged. I'm sure anyone who's made it can remember back to the people that were initially gentle with them, allowing them to gain confidence and grow at their own pace.

2. Just being nice isn't helpful.
Has this happened to you - you finally decide to ask someone to take a look at something, they do, and they hand it back to you with a 'that's very nice.' ? Gee, thanks. But now you're still where you were before. You know it can be better, but you don't know how or where. This sort of feedback, (yes, it's always nice to have an ego boost) doesn't help us improve.

3. Everyone is looking for something different in a critique/beta.
This is a no-brainer. We all have different strengths, and different not-so-strengths. What you're wanting out of a second, third or umpteenth pair of eyes depends on those strenghts, and on what stage of your specific writing process you're in. I think the most important thing when working with someone who is BCEing for you is to communicate clearly what type of feedback you are looking for. And being able to recognize and decide on this is also a useful skill. Keep in mind too that every BCEer brings something different to the table too. Hence my 'more is better' policy.

With that said, my flogging didn't hurt my feelings. I knew what I was getting into, and I got what I wanted out of it. I spent a year under a tough-love brutal beta, who told it like it was, and always spoke up if something didn't mesh.

So, one of my group members (who are all faced with the grueling task of critiquing some of my WIPs) asked "What are you looking for in a BCE?" I thought about it. I can some it up in ONE word. (I know - it's a miracle!!!)

Honesty.

I want to know what you think, honestly. Even if it's harsh - hit me with it. I want that sting, because I know it will become a part of my assimilated skill set, however painful the process.

I've Been Flogged.

Back around Thanksgiving, I finally got up the guts to submit the opening of one of my novels, Unforgiven, to a blog that I frequent.

Flogging the Quill is a terrific blog, run by Ray Rhamey. He does a free edit on submitted openings, and in so doing, creates a valuable learning resource for aspiring authors. I believe that the more feedback you can get on your writing, the better, and since I already respected Ray's opinion, I went for it.

On the whole, Ray was pretty gentle with me, and I walked away nodding. Most of the things he said, I anticipated, and had already begun making corrections. It was good affirmation though, and the other comments were helpful too.

If you haven't checked it out - I urge you to explore Flogging the Quill, and if you can swallow your pride enough to submit - Ray's feedback is invaluable.

Memorable

I stumbled upon the Flash Fiction Carnival 2008, listed on Absolute Write, and thought, "What the hey?" It's a way to prod the muse without the pressure of publishing looming over me. The prompt this time around was NEW, and I bring you . . . fluff.

***

The stranger in her bed was about a hundred and eighty pounds of solid muscle, thankfully fully clothed. Other than a vague memory of promising him a kiss at midnight, Sybil had no idea who he was. He was cute, though, in a way-too-good-for-her frat boy sort of way. She was pretty sure he’d take one look at her sober, and beam directly back to planet Cool. They always did. Aside from co-hosting the occasional rockin’ beer-bash, Sybil was a social outcast. She had half a mind to climb back under the covers, but thought better of it. Still, those few precious seconds between sleep and waking, tucked snuggly in his arms had been . . . sweet.

She found Craig and Ellen in the kitchen, performing their normal post-party ritual. To the uneducated eye, it looked a little like two blind sailors tilting back and forth through a ship’s galley dumping random items into a large bowl. But Sybil smiled as she watched them, reaching over and under and past each other in a long-practiced dance. Some things never changed – and after the year she’d had, Sybil liked that idea. The familiarity of seeing her roommates clean up and make breakfast after an all-night thrasher felt like home.

“Syb, is your friend staying for pancakes, or what?” Craig asked, cracking eggs one handed and tossing the shells in the sink.

Sybil wrinkled her nose at him as she peeked over the counter. “I guess I’ll go ask him,” she answered, dipping her finger into the batter before huffing back down the hallway.

She kicked her bedroom door open and let it fling into the nightstand, but the occupant of her bed didn’t flinch. Sybil opened the blinds, bathing the room in hazy late-morning sun, to no avail. She finally sighed, reached down, and poked his shoulder. He stirred awake, blearily blinking his eyes at his surroundings. Sybil leaned against the door with her hands pressed behind her as his gaze finally settled on her.

“Morning, Sybil,” he smiled, sitting up.

“Yeah, hi,” she answered blandly. An awkward silence followed, where he looked at her expectantly and she looked everywhere but at her anonymous man-candy guest, a flush steadily crawling up her neck.

“You don’t remember my name, do you?” he sat up, chuckling softly.

“Breakfast?” she asked, ignoring his question.

“Sounds great,” frat-boy answered, as he stood up and stretched. He shuffled past her with an ironic smile, leaving Sybil scowling at his back and mentally fumbling through her memories of the night before.

Breakfast was strange. Tom introduced himself to Craig and Ellen, and then socialized as if he’d been invited for tea. Sybil wondered what was really up with his Mr. Roger’s act. She made every attempt at insinuating her suspicion, to which Tom’s only response was a serene smile. Craig and Ellen were thoroughly charmed, especially when he offered to clear the table.

“No, really. That’s okay - you can go,” Sybil said, grabbing a stack of plates from his hands.

“I don’t mind,” was all he replied.

The clean up went quickly, and Craig and Ellen were ecstatic at Tom’s generous help, extending an open-ended invitation for him to return any time, even as Sybil glared at them from behind his back. Her roommates only smiled and winked, retreating to their rooms. Left alone with her auspicious houseguest, Sybil fidgeted as he studied her. The soft challenge in his eyes was unnerving.

“So,” she said, clearing her throat.

“You owe me a kiss,” Tom said without preamble.

“What?” Sybil asked, her eyes going wide.

“Last night, you promised me a kiss, and you never paid up,” he answered, stalking towards her.

“I-, uh-, you-, remember that?” She stepped back, then ran into the wall as he advanced.

“That’s why I stayed,” he nodded. “I wanted you to be sober, to remember it.” The warmth of his body occupying her personal space sent her heart racing away, and she looked at his wide, smiling mouth in a whole new threatening light as he hovered over her.

“Why?” she asked in a breathy whisper, her brows knit together in anxious confusion. Why was this gorgeous man even still in her house? Was he just playing with her? Some sort of twisted ‘make out with the nerd’ joke? A bet?

“It’s the first kiss of the New Year. It should be memorable, don’t you think?” he asked, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand.

Sybil frowned harder to cover her shiver of anticipation. “Why me?” she clarified.

“You intrigue me,” he breathed into her mouth.

She looked up at him, startled, holding her breath. It’s not that she hadn’t been there before. Guys had put moves on her plenty of times – it had just never worked so well. Sybil could feel all of her careful defenses melting away. She stared into Tom’s eyes, wondering if, for once, it could be the real deal. His gaze was open and honest meeting hers. And though she could feel the invitation in his closeness, it was just that – inviting, not demanding. If she were honest, he intrigued her too – even if it was mostly wondering how he could possibly want her. Then she thought, what the heck? It was a New Year, right? New opportunities. New possibilities. And if she dared, new hopes. Some things never changed, but maybe, just maybe, some things did. She wrapped her arms around Tom’s neck, and as his lips sank in to hers, Sybil decided that new was definitely a good thing, and so was memorable.

***

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