Star of Justice's launch party happens in 11 days.
I've been able to ignore that less and less as the days tick off the calendar.
It's just a party. It's not a book signing, or a class, or an interview on national television. It's a party. There's no reason to be nervous.
Yet I am. A little knot has formed in my stomach and clunks around enough to awaken me in the wee hours of pre-dawn as I toss and turn.
I'm not very good at parties. I'm often over-bearing, less than gracious, and occasionally down-right rude when I'm the center of undivided attention. Ask anyone who came to any of my birthday parties before I stopped having them about 10 years ago because of the above-mentioned reasons. That's one of the reasons I put off the launch.
You'd think a grown woman would be above that, but once a Brat always a Brat when the pressure's on.
I am also a little nervous about reading aloud. Will I get Merritt's accent right? Does it matter? These are Kansans. They won't know Scottish from Kiwi. Doesn't mean I shouldn't try. And what passage of Price of Justice is right for a sneak preview? The best parts so far involve new characters; they wouldn't make sense to normal people. This is assuming I have the guts to read anything aloud.
So far, about 25 people tell me they're coming. I've invited lots more, so we'll have to see what the final tally is. It's one of those moments when I don't know if I'll be excited or relieved to see who shows up.
Doesn't matter. It's a party. We're all going to have a good time. Every single one of us.
If nothing else, the Melted Snowballs will be delicious.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Swoon-worthy
I've been following a discussion at one of my on-line writer groups about what makes a male character "swoon-worthy." The initial questioner wanted examples, too, and Vaulter was kind enough to throw Merritt into the fray.
Thanks, Vaulter, but I don't see it.
Weird, I know, to write a male protagonist that doesn't make me shiver, but Merritt is just a guy. A "man's man," if you will, but not what I consider my type. He's Caissa's complement. Fearless, intuitive, well-fed, competent with weapons - you know, the stuff she isn't. A savage man with a thin veneer of civility. Frankly, I've been surprised by how many people like him. He's a bit of a brute, although his heart is in the right place.
Don't get me wrong. Merritt is shaggy head and shoulders above many men in my estimation. His loyalty, integrity, and survival skills make him an admirable companion in almost any situation not involving white gloves and ballroom dances. He's just not my type.
None of the males in Star of Justice are my type, actually. I tend to go for the George Francisco's (Alien Nation, if the name isn't familiar) of the world: the husband/father provider that excels at his job yet makes time for his family. Or the weight-of-the-world carrier that takes responsibility seriously and follows the hard right, like Hank Hill. Yes, he's a cartoon character, but he's got the right stuff.
The writers group seemed to conclude "swoon-worthy" depends on the swooner. Wise words. Since my goal has never been world-wide fame, I'll stick with "interesting" as my goal. If they turn out "swoon-worthy," as well, bonus.
Thanks, Vaulter, but I don't see it.
Weird, I know, to write a male protagonist that doesn't make me shiver, but Merritt is just a guy. A "man's man," if you will, but not what I consider my type. He's Caissa's complement. Fearless, intuitive, well-fed, competent with weapons - you know, the stuff she isn't. A savage man with a thin veneer of civility. Frankly, I've been surprised by how many people like him. He's a bit of a brute, although his heart is in the right place.
Don't get me wrong. Merritt is shaggy head and shoulders above many men in my estimation. His loyalty, integrity, and survival skills make him an admirable companion in almost any situation not involving white gloves and ballroom dances. He's just not my type.
None of the males in Star of Justice are my type, actually. I tend to go for the George Francisco's (Alien Nation, if the name isn't familiar) of the world: the husband/father provider that excels at his job yet makes time for his family. Or the weight-of-the-world carrier that takes responsibility seriously and follows the hard right, like Hank Hill. Yes, he's a cartoon character, but he's got the right stuff.
The writers group seemed to conclude "swoon-worthy" depends on the swooner. Wise words. Since my goal has never been world-wide fame, I'll stick with "interesting" as my goal. If they turn out "swoon-worthy," as well, bonus.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Resistance is Right
The Lioness posted at NAF about the difference between resistance and procrastination. I'll understand if you want to take a moment to check that out. It's a short post. I'll wait.
Well, last night was the first time in about five days that I've had the time or energy to write on my WIP. I turned everything off but the computer and settled in to solve my most recent plot issues.
Forty minutes of resistance later, I was ready to give procrastination total control at the Turtle household. I added 100 words apparently ripped out of my own flesh, considering how hard they were to form, but can't tell that I've made any headway.
This is version...I don't know...twelve? for some of these scenes. I can't remember what I've kept and what I've chucked. My notes are spotty at best and missing at worst. I just read and wrote some of this a week ago and I can't remember what I did or where I am. Re-reading it last night showed I forgot what the characters were doing within two pages.
TT: Is this senility? Would I know?
I'm writing toward a climax I can barely envision, let alone resolve. That's not been fun.
It's not that the story sucks. Looking back over what I have, I'm pleased. I just can't see where I'm going and that makes it very hard to navigate. Sometimes I see clearly where I'm going and it scares the tar out of me. I have no idea how to write some of what may happen.
Part of me wants to flip a coin whenever I hit one of these junctures. What would that story be like, I wonder?
On the plus side, I'm halfway through the Lioness' most recent project and loving it. Would you believe I'm most fascinated by the part where they're setting up an LLC? Since my job for the past year has been filing business entity paperwork in Kansas, I guess it's understandable. Can't tell if that makes me an uber-geek or just the most boring person on the planet.
Probably the latter. Anyway, big thumbs up from me so far, Kristen. Good job.
Well, last night was the first time in about five days that I've had the time or energy to write on my WIP. I turned everything off but the computer and settled in to solve my most recent plot issues.
Forty minutes of resistance later, I was ready to give procrastination total control at the Turtle household. I added 100 words apparently ripped out of my own flesh, considering how hard they were to form, but can't tell that I've made any headway.
This is version...I don't know...twelve? for some of these scenes. I can't remember what I've kept and what I've chucked. My notes are spotty at best and missing at worst. I just read and wrote some of this a week ago and I can't remember what I did or where I am. Re-reading it last night showed I forgot what the characters were doing within two pages.
TT: Is this senility? Would I know?
I'm writing toward a climax I can barely envision, let alone resolve. That's not been fun.
It's not that the story sucks. Looking back over what I have, I'm pleased. I just can't see where I'm going and that makes it very hard to navigate. Sometimes I see clearly where I'm going and it scares the tar out of me. I have no idea how to write some of what may happen.
Part of me wants to flip a coin whenever I hit one of these junctures. What would that story be like, I wonder?
On the plus side, I'm halfway through the Lioness' most recent project and loving it. Would you believe I'm most fascinated by the part where they're setting up an LLC? Since my job for the past year has been filing business entity paperwork in Kansas, I guess it's understandable. Can't tell if that makes me an uber-geek or just the most boring person on the planet.
Probably the latter. Anyway, big thumbs up from me so far, Kristen. Good job.
Monday, September 17, 2012
About the Nudity...
It took two days and four naps to recover from my trip to the Hutchinson State Fair last week. Had a great time, but, man, it wears me out. Not sure it does the cats any good, either. Simon has been on my lap or in my face more this weekend than this previous year. I had no idea he cared.
TT: I'm hoping I'm recovered, anyway. Gotta go to work.
I wanted to take a moment to address an issue mentioned in a couple of Star of Justice reviews.
The nudity.
I am a prude. I dare you to find an American, non-Muslim woman more likely to cover up when heading outside. I don't wear shorts, swimsuits or halter tops. Or clingy dresses, shirts or skirts. Or plunging necklines. Or anything that might cause my brother to stumble. I am a jeans and heavy t-shirts, calf-length skirts and loose blouses kind of gal. Ask my mom. It seems to annoy her.
However, I have no control whatsoever over how my MCs behave.
It is not my fault that Merritt's clan is traditionalist. I'm not going to tell you how long they've clung to those traditions, but I will say only Scots would be stubborn enough to do it. They still speak Gaelic, too, and that's nothing short of a miracle.
It is not my fault that Raven doesn't want to get her hand-knitted dresses dirty or ripped when she shape-shifts into full druid and runs off to slaughter people. Do you know how long it takes to hand-knit a long dress? Or how hard it is to remove blood stains or mend holes, even with magic? Not to mention how stretched out of shape that dress would get if she transformed while wearing it. Her druid form is taller and thicker than her human form.
Would I behave that way? Absolutely not. I'm one of those people who shares the common nightmare of being naked without my homework. But my MCs are another story entirely.
Their story. I'm just the storyteller.
*evil grin*
TT: Dear Reviewers: Please do not think I disagree with any of you. All SOJ reviews I've read so far have been spot-on as far as I'm concerned, and I'm grateful for them and you.
TT: I'm hoping I'm recovered, anyway. Gotta go to work.
I wanted to take a moment to address an issue mentioned in a couple of Star of Justice reviews.
The nudity.
I am a prude. I dare you to find an American, non-Muslim woman more likely to cover up when heading outside. I don't wear shorts, swimsuits or halter tops. Or clingy dresses, shirts or skirts. Or plunging necklines. Or anything that might cause my brother to stumble. I am a jeans and heavy t-shirts, calf-length skirts and loose blouses kind of gal. Ask my mom. It seems to annoy her.
However, I have no control whatsoever over how my MCs behave.
It is not my fault that Merritt's clan is traditionalist. I'm not going to tell you how long they've clung to those traditions, but I will say only Scots would be stubborn enough to do it. They still speak Gaelic, too, and that's nothing short of a miracle.
It is not my fault that Raven doesn't want to get her hand-knitted dresses dirty or ripped when she shape-shifts into full druid and runs off to slaughter people. Do you know how long it takes to hand-knit a long dress? Or how hard it is to remove blood stains or mend holes, even with magic? Not to mention how stretched out of shape that dress would get if she transformed while wearing it. Her druid form is taller and thicker than her human form.
Would I behave that way? Absolutely not. I'm one of those people who shares the common nightmare of being naked without my homework. But my MCs are another story entirely.
Their story. I'm just the storyteller.
*evil grin*
TT: Dear Reviewers: Please do not think I disagree with any of you. All SOJ reviews I've read so far have been spot-on as far as I'm concerned, and I'm grateful for them and you.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Kat Heckenbach Interviews Angel Mason of The Toch Island Chronicles
Hi. My name is, um, Angel. Yeah, I know, odd name. I get
that a lot. But it’s what my charm bracelet says, and since that’s the only
thing I have from the past that I couldn’t remember when I was found by Mr. and
Mrs. Mason when I was six…
Oh, sorry. That’s not why I’m here. I mean it is—my story is
why I’m here. But I’m not here to tell you that story. The whole thing
is written out in a book. Yep, Kat Heckenbach wrote a book all about me. And
today I’m going to ask her some questions about it. I bet you’d have questions
for someone if they wrote a whole book about your life, wouldn’t you? Yeah. So,
here we go.
A: Miss Kat, I—
K: You can just call me Kat, Angel. “Miss Kat” makes me feel
like a preschool teacher. ;)
A: Oh, okay then. Kat…what made you decide to write a book?
And did you know it would be about me when you started?
K: Let me answer those the other way around, if that’s okay.
I definitely didn’t know it would be about you, specifically. I knew it would
be about a girl, somewhere around your age, but I didn’t have all the details.
I remember that age well (although junior high feels like a long time ago!) and
it was a time in my life when I really started getting into reading fantasy.
A: Ooh! I love fantasy! It’s my favorite genre!
K: Yeah, mine, too. I loved the whole idea of being magic
and finding a hidden world or something.
(Angel gives Kat a strange look.)
K: You okay, Angel?
A: Yeah…it’s just that….well…for me, that pretty much came
true.
(Kat smiles.) K: Yeah, I know. I, um, wrote it.
A: Oh, right. Duh. Go ahead.
K: Anyway, your name came from my daughter. She was on this
kick about naming all her stuffed animals and such “Angel.” It was literally
the first thing that popped into my head. So I started there.
A: Cool! But you still haven’t answered about what made you
want to write.
K: Right. Sorry. Like I said, I really got into reading
fantasy when I was your age. I read all the time. My favorite place was in this
tree in my back yard.
A: A tree? Really? Mine too!
K: Well, mine was this cool tree that was kind of knocked
over, so it stuck out of the ground at an angle. I could actually walk up it,
and sit at the top where a big branch stuck straight up. I would lean against
the branch like a chair back.
(Angel’s eyes widen.) A: That sounds just like my tree!
(Kat smiles again.) K: That’s an odd coincidence. Is yours way in the back? Like
by the back fence?
A: Yeah!
K: I bet you like to look out across the neighbor’s yard,
too. My neighbor had this big, open field—
A: Mine too! Whoa, that’s so cool! I wonder if we have
anything else in common! Do you have any brothers? I have three! My youngest
brother is really cool and loves bugs.
K: Well, I do have one brother, but he’s not very into bugs.
My son is, though. He loves them. We even count his bug-hunting as part of his
homeschooling sometimes.
A: My little brother, Zack, homeschools, too. Wow…I bet
they’d get along great.
(Kat stifles a chuckle.) K: I bet they would.
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(Angel nods and bites her lip.) A: So, Mis—I mean, Kat. What else do you like to do beside
write and read fantasy?
K: I draw. Mostly with charcoal pencil.
(Angel gapes.) A: No. Way. I draw, too! And charcoal is totally my
favorite medium. That’s just weird…
K: Yep, pretty weird.
A: But we can’t have everything in common. (*arches
one eyebrow*)
K: Oh, surely not.
A: I mean, like…I bet you weren’t a nerd in school like me.
And I bet you don’t like science, do you? Not many artsy types are into
science. (*crosses arms and looks confidently*)
K: Total nerd. And my college degree is in Biology.
(Angel shakes her head as if to clear it.) A: How tall are you?
K: Five-foot-nine.
A: Five-eight! Hah!
K: I was five-eight at your age, too, Angel.
(Angel eyes Kat’s hair and points.) A: You’re not a redhead.
K: Nope...not anymore. My hair has gotten darker as I got
older.
A: Oh…this is just too bizarre. Even weirder than finding
out magic is real…
(Kat smiles and leans forward, lowers her voice.) K: Maybe it is magic…
Kat Heckenbach grew up in the small town of Riverview,
Florida, where she spent most of her time either drawing or sitting in her
"reading tree" with her nose buried in a fantasy novel...except for
the hours pretending her back yard was an enchanted forest that could only be
reached through the secret passage in her closet...
She never could give up on the idea that maybe she really
was magic, mistakenly placed in a world not her own...but as the years passed,
and no elves or fairies carted her away...she realized she was just going to
have to create the life of her fantasies.
Now she shares that life with her husband and two kids. Ok,
maybe "share" isn't the right word--more like lives that life in her
writing and tries her best to be normal the rest of the time...
Kat is a graduate of
the University of
Tampa, Magna Cum Laude,
B.S. in Biology. She spent several years teaching, but never in a traditional
classroom—everything from Art to Algebra II—and now homeschools her children.
Author Website: http://www.katheckenbach.com/
Blog Tour Links:
Friday, September 14, 2012
Guest Post at Magical Ink
Heather Titus was kind enough to read Star of Justice and review, and even kinder to offer me a guest spot at her blog.
I hope I didn't embarrass her.
Read my post at Magical Ink. Then bookmark her page, because she usually discusses people way more interesting than me.
Thank you for the honor, Heather.
I hope I didn't embarrass her.
Read my post at Magical Ink. Then bookmark her page, because she usually discusses people way more interesting than me.
Thank you for the honor, Heather.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
A New Review by Heather A. Titus
Hey, I missed this in all the not-paying attention I've been doing.
Heather A. Titus, one of our NAF contributors and the winner of one of my book giveaways earlier this year, reviewed Star of Justice on Monday.
Read it here.
Glad you liked it, Heather. Your review is spot-on. No complaints here.
Sorry about Merritt. I can't do a thing with him.
Heather A. Titus, one of our NAF contributors and the winner of one of my book giveaways earlier this year, reviewed Star of Justice on Monday.
Read it here.
Glad you liked it, Heather. Your review is spot-on. No complaints here.
Sorry about Merritt. I can't do a thing with him.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Busy, Busy
Sorry about the absence, but I've been catching up on all those little tasks I mentioned last week.
I've added a second Bible study to my schedule, an eight-week inductive study of 2 Peter. That requires brain time so "good-bye" to some other brain activities while I'm doing it.
TT: Have you noticed you only have so much energy to expend? Adding something to your life necessitates cutting something else. It's the penalty for being merely human.
I've also hit one of those chapters in my WIP where things need to get cut or combined. Those tend to slow me down. I also realized I'd given the mirror way too many abilities, so I'll have to rewrite those scenes, too.
"Why does that matter?" My Dear Friend asked. It matters quite a bit. The mirror is a powerful magical item, but it's not all-powerful. It can't do everything, and it shouldn't. Overcoming limitations is a key ingredient in a good story, even for magic mirrors.
One good thing I did unconsciously was provide myself with a plausible reason for the current timeline. Took me a while to figure that out, too, but I've got it now.
TT: It's weird when the submerged part of your brain does stuff and forgets to tell the other part. Don't think it's diagnosable, but it is weird.
I'm also going through some changes at work. Good ones, I hope, but all change causes the Turtle to freeze before adapting. I've been a bit distracted overall.
Lastly, I've started reading Lioness's newest WIP about an accountant. She's been talking about it for a year or so, and the first draft is finally done. Yea! Loving it, btw, Lioness. It's got a nice flow to it, and the description rocks. I'm four chapters in on my Kindle and going strong.
So, I'm still here, just doing some stuff in the real world at the moment. I'll be back on track shortly.
Happy Wednesday, dear readers. Remember to put the trash out.
I've added a second Bible study to my schedule, an eight-week inductive study of 2 Peter. That requires brain time so "good-bye" to some other brain activities while I'm doing it.
TT: Have you noticed you only have so much energy to expend? Adding something to your life necessitates cutting something else. It's the penalty for being merely human.
I've also hit one of those chapters in my WIP where things need to get cut or combined. Those tend to slow me down. I also realized I'd given the mirror way too many abilities, so I'll have to rewrite those scenes, too.
"Why does that matter?" My Dear Friend asked. It matters quite a bit. The mirror is a powerful magical item, but it's not all-powerful. It can't do everything, and it shouldn't. Overcoming limitations is a key ingredient in a good story, even for magic mirrors.
One good thing I did unconsciously was provide myself with a plausible reason for the current timeline. Took me a while to figure that out, too, but I've got it now.
TT: It's weird when the submerged part of your brain does stuff and forgets to tell the other part. Don't think it's diagnosable, but it is weird.
I'm also going through some changes at work. Good ones, I hope, but all change causes the Turtle to freeze before adapting. I've been a bit distracted overall.
Lastly, I've started reading Lioness's newest WIP about an accountant. She's been talking about it for a year or so, and the first draft is finally done. Yea! Loving it, btw, Lioness. It's got a nice flow to it, and the description rocks. I'm four chapters in on my Kindle and going strong.
So, I'm still here, just doing some stuff in the real world at the moment. I'll be back on track shortly.
Happy Wednesday, dear readers. Remember to put the trash out.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Lessons From a TV Cable Repairman
I'm back at NAF and still learning valuable life lessons at my age. Read about one of them over at
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Hangover
Aren't hangovers what people have the day after a three day weekend? I don't drink, so I don't actually know what one feels like, but I awoke with a headache, neckache, backache and a new kind of ache in my left jaw joint - can't think of what that's called at the moment - that is giving me an earache, too.
I have scheduled that mouthpiece adjustment, but it's two weeks away yet. I can make it. I'm tough.
The search for a new car has begun. I went to look at the first candidate late last night, a Subaru Outback just over my price point. It was a lovely car, but as I thought about how much I have to spend and how long it took me to get that money and how long it will be before I'll have that much money again to spend on another car, I've decided to keep looking.
Dave Ramsey is right. Buying with cash makes you think twice. And three times. Or more. It's a whole different feeling handing over dollars than signing papers, even if those papers place you in indentured servitude.
I'm thinking some of the aching this morning is due to the stress of looking at that beautiful car and making a grown up decision. Why else would I notice my jaw clamped tight while I was still awake?
Anyway, after a weekend of procrastinating that included buying a printer, a refrigerator and dismantling my entire living room, I finished that guest blog post, answered some survey questions to submit to some ACFW project, and wrote my post for my return to NAF on Wednesday. I also created a Launch Party poster that I need to put up in various places, all in a space of about 60 minutes while waiting for a call about the car, which means I was trying to avoid thinking about that.
Coming to the conclusion that weekends are not my best "writing work" time. They're just for recovery.
Anyway, full week ahead, for all that it's a short work week, so I'd better go lie down and let the aspirin kick in.
Happy Tuesday, folks.
I have scheduled that mouthpiece adjustment, but it's two weeks away yet. I can make it. I'm tough.
The search for a new car has begun. I went to look at the first candidate late last night, a Subaru Outback just over my price point. It was a lovely car, but as I thought about how much I have to spend and how long it took me to get that money and how long it will be before I'll have that much money again to spend on another car, I've decided to keep looking.
Dave Ramsey is right. Buying with cash makes you think twice. And three times. Or more. It's a whole different feeling handing over dollars than signing papers, even if those papers place you in indentured servitude.
I'm thinking some of the aching this morning is due to the stress of looking at that beautiful car and making a grown up decision. Why else would I notice my jaw clamped tight while I was still awake?
Anyway, after a weekend of procrastinating that included buying a printer, a refrigerator and dismantling my entire living room, I finished that guest blog post, answered some survey questions to submit to some ACFW project, and wrote my post for my return to NAF on Wednesday. I also created a Launch Party poster that I need to put up in various places, all in a space of about 60 minutes while waiting for a call about the car, which means I was trying to avoid thinking about that.
Coming to the conclusion that weekends are not my best "writing work" time. They're just for recovery.
Anyway, full week ahead, for all that it's a short work week, so I'd better go lie down and let the aspirin kick in.
Happy Tuesday, folks.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Piling Up
Is August taking an extremely long time or is it just me?
I seem to be caught in some kind of temporal loop where each day not only drags like a zombie with no legs, it speeds by at the same time. I have a growing list of little tasks that I can't find the time or motivation to tackle, yet must be tackled.
Without the clamoring human family, some things can be put off. Turns out a person can survive on Doritos for a week, especially if she keeps forgetting to thaw the chicken. That same person cannot survive without kitty litter. No way.
So, in the spirit of getting things done, I'm finishing this post and doing five or six little things before work that will allow me to do five or six things afterwards. I hope a good start will lead to a solid finish.
Happy Wednesday, dear readers. Say a prayer for those in Isaac's path. Iguana is one of them.
I seem to be caught in some kind of temporal loop where each day not only drags like a zombie with no legs, it speeds by at the same time. I have a growing list of little tasks that I can't find the time or motivation to tackle, yet must be tackled.
Without the clamoring human family, some things can be put off. Turns out a person can survive on Doritos for a week, especially if she keeps forgetting to thaw the chicken. That same person cannot survive without kitty litter. No way.
So, in the spirit of getting things done, I'm finishing this post and doing five or six little things before work that will allow me to do five or six things afterwards. I hope a good start will lead to a solid finish.
Happy Wednesday, dear readers. Say a prayer for those in Isaac's path. Iguana is one of them.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
I'm Not Upset
Finally got around to asking my publisher about online sales figures. Not glowing, dear readers. Not glowing.
TT: Adding in my personal sales make it look a little better.
She sent some kind words along with them of the "don't worry, slow starts can build" sort, but I admit, I was surprised at the smallness of the whole thing. Were I the sort who cared about numbers, I would be disheartened. On the other hand, I am convinced slow and steady is the only way to build a real fan base. If those who read my book now like it enough to buy the next, I'm good, provided I produce a next. My plan has always been to saturate the market with "me" until a reader can't turn around without bumping into a Turtle egg. If I live to 111, I have almost 70 years to achieve that goal.
I've said from the beginning, for me, this isn't about selling or being published or any kind of ego trip whatsoever. My goal was to finish a book, and I did that. Publication was more of a symptom of finishing. However, for the sake of my publisher and small fan group and the world in general, I will try to promote my book a bit more. I have one advantage over the average writer: I'm not afraid of people.
My launch party will commence Oct 5, 6 - 8 PM at World Cup Cafe.
I'm heading south in a couple weeks. I should contact that bookstore near Wichita and see about dropping in and hosting a book signing or something.
I have a contact name for my old high school. I want to donate a book to their library, but, frankly, I suspect I'll need board approval and a PG 16 rating. I'll get on that.
And, I have one ace-in-the-hole I've been too nervous to play. Thinking it's time to play it. More about that later, I suspect.
Happy Tuesday, everybody.
TT: Adding in my personal sales make it look a little better.
She sent some kind words along with them of the "don't worry, slow starts can build" sort, but I admit, I was surprised at the smallness of the whole thing. Were I the sort who cared about numbers, I would be disheartened. On the other hand, I am convinced slow and steady is the only way to build a real fan base. If those who read my book now like it enough to buy the next, I'm good, provided I produce a next. My plan has always been to saturate the market with "me" until a reader can't turn around without bumping into a Turtle egg. If I live to 111, I have almost 70 years to achieve that goal.
I've said from the beginning, for me, this isn't about selling or being published or any kind of ego trip whatsoever. My goal was to finish a book, and I did that. Publication was more of a symptom of finishing. However, for the sake of my publisher and small fan group and the world in general, I will try to promote my book a bit more. I have one advantage over the average writer: I'm not afraid of people.
My launch party will commence Oct 5, 6 - 8 PM at World Cup Cafe.
I'm heading south in a couple weeks. I should contact that bookstore near Wichita and see about dropping in and hosting a book signing or something.
I have a contact name for my old high school. I want to donate a book to their library, but, frankly, I suspect I'll need board approval and a PG 16 rating. I'll get on that.
And, I have one ace-in-the-hole I've been too nervous to play. Thinking it's time to play it. More about that later, I suspect.
Happy Tuesday, everybody.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Of Backaches and Cavities
I am prone to cavities. Have been all my life. I brush, I floss, I go to the dentist every six months for cleaning, but I continue to get cavities. Such is my life.
I got two fillings about two weeks ago, and I'm supposed to get another one this week. The cavities are on opposite sides of my mouth, you see, so filling all of them at once would not only cause my numbed face to slide right off my skull, it would make eating impossible.
I was warned that one of the filling replacements - yes, fillings can wear out - was close to the nerve and would be tender for a while. She wasn't kidding.
After two weeks, I can't chew chips on that side. No, I don't need to chew chips, but I do eat granola, and broccoli, and other things that require some pressure on the molars. The second filling to be replaced - I mentioned fillings wear out, didn't I? - is also a molar and also close to a nerve. What happens if it freaks out, too? I'll be eating my steak through a straw.
Just kidding. I rarely eat steak. It would be ground turkey through a straw.
Here's the second half of the story. Replacing fillings causes the mouthpiece I wear to go out of alignment. When it goes out of alignment, I can't sleep, I get horrible back and neck aches, and I lose feeling in my left arm. These symptoms started this weekend. I currently have a stabbing pain in my neck that extends to the base of my spine, and it won't get better until several days after a mouthpiece alignment.
TT: I do wonder if the nightly chewing is what's causing these fillings to wear out so quickly. They're not more than 10 years old, I'm sure. The mouthpiece protects me somewhat, but pressure is pressure. Don't think that doesn't give me something to chew on. Sigh.
I want to reschedule my next dental appointment to give my new filling a little more time to calm down so I can eat on that side, but I don't want to wait to adjust my mouthpiece or spend $85 to adjust my mouthpiece between fillings. I doubt I could get in to do so even if I wanted to on such short notice. My orthodontist is quite popular.
So, do I go ahead with the filling and plan to eat oatmeal for the foreseeable future, or do I reschedule the dentist and live with the backaches for a month or more? It's also possible the filling won't calm down and will require a crown, but it could be the first crown that's giving trouble instead of the new filling, in which case my next option is a root canal and that leads to a whole new set of problems.
I hoped laying it out here would make the correct decision obvious, but I fear no "correct" decision exists. It's all "what-ifs" and wishes. I guess I'll schedule the mouthpiece alignment and plan to go ahead with the new filling. I have three days in which to cancel. We'll see if they make the difference.
I got two fillings about two weeks ago, and I'm supposed to get another one this week. The cavities are on opposite sides of my mouth, you see, so filling all of them at once would not only cause my numbed face to slide right off my skull, it would make eating impossible.
I was warned that one of the filling replacements - yes, fillings can wear out - was close to the nerve and would be tender for a while. She wasn't kidding.
After two weeks, I can't chew chips on that side. No, I don't need to chew chips, but I do eat granola, and broccoli, and other things that require some pressure on the molars. The second filling to be replaced - I mentioned fillings wear out, didn't I? - is also a molar and also close to a nerve. What happens if it freaks out, too? I'll be eating my steak through a straw.
Just kidding. I rarely eat steak. It would be ground turkey through a straw.
Here's the second half of the story. Replacing fillings causes the mouthpiece I wear to go out of alignment. When it goes out of alignment, I can't sleep, I get horrible back and neck aches, and I lose feeling in my left arm. These symptoms started this weekend. I currently have a stabbing pain in my neck that extends to the base of my spine, and it won't get better until several days after a mouthpiece alignment.
TT: I do wonder if the nightly chewing is what's causing these fillings to wear out so quickly. They're not more than 10 years old, I'm sure. The mouthpiece protects me somewhat, but pressure is pressure. Don't think that doesn't give me something to chew on. Sigh.
I want to reschedule my next dental appointment to give my new filling a little more time to calm down so I can eat on that side, but I don't want to wait to adjust my mouthpiece or spend $85 to adjust my mouthpiece between fillings. I doubt I could get in to do so even if I wanted to on such short notice. My orthodontist is quite popular.
So, do I go ahead with the filling and plan to eat oatmeal for the foreseeable future, or do I reschedule the dentist and live with the backaches for a month or more? It's also possible the filling won't calm down and will require a crown, but it could be the first crown that's giving trouble instead of the new filling, in which case my next option is a root canal and that leads to a whole new set of problems.
I hoped laying it out here would make the correct decision obvious, but I fear no "correct" decision exists. It's all "what-ifs" and wishes. I guess I'll schedule the mouthpiece alignment and plan to go ahead with the new filling. I have three days in which to cancel. We'll see if they make the difference.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Behind the Scenes
I've been asked to guest post on another author's blog, soooooo, awesome. Deeply honored. I'll keep you up to date on that.
Another co-worker started reading Star of Justice. She's gotten to the walking forest (ch 3). Her face lit up while she was explaining her reactions to the whole scene and she ended with "They're settling in for the night, but I just know something interesting is going to happen next."
Well, that's a pretty intense compliment, I'm thinking.
She's not the first to mention the walking forest as a favorite part. Even Big Brother, who prefers books where someone's head explodes in the first 500 words and gave me endless grief over using the word "trencher," made the off-hand comment that "the forest is pretty cool."
Huh.
Shall I confess?
The forest wasn't planned. I needed something to happen, and that was the first thing that sprang to mind.
When I directed puppets, one of the things we did as an encore was perform one of our songs with the curtains down. I wanted the audience to understand the kind of gyrations and coordination required to use signs, two-handed puppets, two-people puppets and puppets that move from back stage to front in a group of ten people in a confined space. It is something to behold.
I wonder if readers want to know those kinds of behind-the-scenes info on books? I always watch the "Making Of" segments of movies I like. Would I do the same for books? Or does that spoil the fun?
Let me know. I have reasons for almost everything I wrote. I'm willing to share many of them.
Another co-worker started reading Star of Justice. She's gotten to the walking forest (ch 3). Her face lit up while she was explaining her reactions to the whole scene and she ended with "They're settling in for the night, but I just know something interesting is going to happen next."
Well, that's a pretty intense compliment, I'm thinking.
She's not the first to mention the walking forest as a favorite part. Even Big Brother, who prefers books where someone's head explodes in the first 500 words and gave me endless grief over using the word "trencher," made the off-hand comment that "the forest is pretty cool."
Huh.
Shall I confess?
The forest wasn't planned. I needed something to happen, and that was the first thing that sprang to mind.
When I directed puppets, one of the things we did as an encore was perform one of our songs with the curtains down. I wanted the audience to understand the kind of gyrations and coordination required to use signs, two-handed puppets, two-people puppets and puppets that move from back stage to front in a group of ten people in a confined space. It is something to behold.
I wonder if readers want to know those kinds of behind-the-scenes info on books? I always watch the "Making Of" segments of movies I like. Would I do the same for books? Or does that spoil the fun?
Let me know. I have reasons for almost everything I wrote. I'm willing to share many of them.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Titles Are Hard
After three years of blogging, I'm having trouble coming up with titles for my posts. Or my books.
TT: What about Elementary for Elementals? Make any more sense? I think I'm done worrying about it. The book is Elementals and that's that.
I've stopped numbering or titling the chapter headings for Price of Justice. Asterisks will have to do the job until I've finished. Since I'm not 100% sure where the book is heading, and the same issues (you know, life and death, consequences for stupidity, power grabs, that sort of thing) keep coming up in every chapter for every POV character, the titles so far could all be "The Price."
Sounds utterly boring, doesn't it? I so don't want it to be boring. I don't want it to be depressing, either. Gotta find that happy ending.
I am writing, though. About an hour a night, which is all the stamina I seem to have at the moment, but an hour a night is better than nothing and it will get it done eventually. I'm back to writing on the laptop in the bedroom, away from the TV and the Internet. It's harder to edit using the fingerpad mouse, but it's easier to write new stuff. New stuff is what I need.
I'm also tentatively scheduling Star of Justice's book launch for Thursday, Oct 5, 6 PM at World Cup Cafe. I have to check with the owner that nothing else is happening that night, but I'm fairly confident that's the time.
TT: My Best Friend gave me a blank look when I told her about it. "Don't book launches happen when a book is published?" Yeah, yeah. I'm a Turtle. I do things in my own time.
Just occurred to me I could do a reading of some portion of Price of Justice. That might be fun.
TT: What about Elementary for Elementals? Make any more sense? I think I'm done worrying about it. The book is Elementals and that's that.
I've stopped numbering or titling the chapter headings for Price of Justice. Asterisks will have to do the job until I've finished. Since I'm not 100% sure where the book is heading, and the same issues (you know, life and death, consequences for stupidity, power grabs, that sort of thing) keep coming up in every chapter for every POV character, the titles so far could all be "The Price."
Sounds utterly boring, doesn't it? I so don't want it to be boring. I don't want it to be depressing, either. Gotta find that happy ending.
I am writing, though. About an hour a night, which is all the stamina I seem to have at the moment, but an hour a night is better than nothing and it will get it done eventually. I'm back to writing on the laptop in the bedroom, away from the TV and the Internet. It's harder to edit using the fingerpad mouse, but it's easier to write new stuff. New stuff is what I need.
I'm also tentatively scheduling Star of Justice's book launch for Thursday, Oct 5, 6 PM at World Cup Cafe. I have to check with the owner that nothing else is happening that night, but I'm fairly confident that's the time.
TT: My Best Friend gave me a blank look when I told her about it. "Don't book launches happen when a book is published?" Yeah, yeah. I'm a Turtle. I do things in my own time.
Just occurred to me I could do a reading of some portion of Price of Justice. That might be fun.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Why Canada?
I was thinking about zombie movies - I do that sometimes - and noticed a theme. The survivors want to flee to Canada.
Granted, I may not have an extensive familiarity with the genre, but the movies I have watched - Resident Evil et al., Night of the Living Dead et al., a rather well-made low-budget film on Syfy this weekend (although it claimed to be about vampires, but they acted more like zombies to me), um, that's all I can think of at the moment, but I'm sure I've watched more - show people trying to get to some mythical colony of survivors in Canada.
Why Canada?
Are zombies immune to cold? They're dead, so that doesn't seem likely. Zombies can cover any terrain humans can cover, so that's not a hindrance. Does Canada's smaller population figure into this? Fewer people means fewer potential zombies? Canada has fairly open borders. It's not like a hoard of zombies couldn't overwhelm a few mounties and hello, brothers to the north, welcome to the feast.
In case of zombie attack, I'd go toward South America. It's way easier to survive in a tropical climate than an arctic one. Unless animals also get zombified, but if that happens, a grizzly or wolf pack or family of beavers will kill you just as dead as a leopard or tapir. Granted, I might run into groups of armed non-zombified humans on the way, but isn't that a good thing? If the movies are accurate, maybe not, but human survivors also figure into the "fleeing to Canada" equation. Who knows? Maybe with everyone going north, south will be a wide-open straight shot to relative safety.
Seems the safest place to go is water. If it's a land-based attack, get off the land and wait the thing out. Unless you're a chemist, waiting for nature to restore balance is really the only option in the zombie apocalypse anyway, other than suicide.
Just something to think about on a Tuesday.
Granted, I may not have an extensive familiarity with the genre, but the movies I have watched - Resident Evil et al., Night of the Living Dead et al., a rather well-made low-budget film on Syfy this weekend (although it claimed to be about vampires, but they acted more like zombies to me), um, that's all I can think of at the moment, but I'm sure I've watched more - show people trying to get to some mythical colony of survivors in Canada.
Why Canada?
Are zombies immune to cold? They're dead, so that doesn't seem likely. Zombies can cover any terrain humans can cover, so that's not a hindrance. Does Canada's smaller population figure into this? Fewer people means fewer potential zombies? Canada has fairly open borders. It's not like a hoard of zombies couldn't overwhelm a few mounties and hello, brothers to the north, welcome to the feast.
In case of zombie attack, I'd go toward South America. It's way easier to survive in a tropical climate than an arctic one. Unless animals also get zombified, but if that happens, a grizzly or wolf pack or family of beavers will kill you just as dead as a leopard or tapir. Granted, I might run into groups of armed non-zombified humans on the way, but isn't that a good thing? If the movies are accurate, maybe not, but human survivors also figure into the "fleeing to Canada" equation. Who knows? Maybe with everyone going north, south will be a wide-open straight shot to relative safety.
Seems the safest place to go is water. If it's a land-based attack, get off the land and wait the thing out. Unless you're a chemist, waiting for nature to restore balance is really the only option in the zombie apocalypse anyway, other than suicide.
Just something to think about on a Tuesday.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Gardens In Babylon
So glad I had the foresight (for once) to schedule Saturday's post last Monday. After six weeks of spotty service, my Internet went out for good Thursday morning and stayed out until my new service provider installed a cable Saturday around 7 PM. That's an eternity in Farmville time.
I must now cancel the old service and move on with my new life of NOT watching FX and Syfy 24/7. Speaking of which, what idiot changed Scifi to Syfy? Was that a hooked-on-phonics marketing ploy? It looks ridiculous. Of course, so do many of the shows, so maybe I'm overreacting.
Anyhoo, now that I'm caught up a bit on my Farmville fix, I'll be tweaking Faith Awakened's blog tour post to connect for real to all the other Splashdown authors who previewed stuff.
I've read the book. It was a little slow in places, but by the end, it all came together in a satisfyingly DOS-programmer kind of way. You'll have to read it to figure that out. I won't explain more here because of spoilers.
On to today's real topic. I think I'm finished with the book of Jeremiah. Can't be entirely sure since the chronological Bible I'm reading this year rearranges stuff and I haven't checked how many chapters Jeremiah has.
Allow me to set the stage. The northern kingdom of Israel has been scattered, and it's Judah's turn to face judgment for idolatry. The Babylonians relocate the majority of Judah's citizens throughout the kingdom of Babylon. Judah's false prophets are telling everybody this is a temporary setback and they'll be home shortly.
God gives Jeremiah a different story. He tells the Israelites to plant gardens, have kids and settle in for the long haul because they'll be captive for 70 years and they have some repopulating to do in the meanwhile. Naturally, God is right.
What I take from this (especially considering one of my recent posts) is the command to get on with life. Yes, things are difficult. Yes, I'm in an alien land facing unknown dangers. However, life goes on until it stops. Plant my garden and live.
I'm not saying I'll be having children any time soon (or at all, for that matter), but I want to take this as a new resolution to occupy until Christ's return. I will write because I don't know the future. I will save for retirement because I don't know the future. I will hope in Christ, my only hope, because He's the only future that matters.
The garden is planted, Lord. Now to tend it.
I must now cancel the old service and move on with my new life of NOT watching FX and Syfy 24/7. Speaking of which, what idiot changed Scifi to Syfy? Was that a hooked-on-phonics marketing ploy? It looks ridiculous. Of course, so do many of the shows, so maybe I'm overreacting.
Anyhoo, now that I'm caught up a bit on my Farmville fix, I'll be tweaking Faith Awakened's blog tour post to connect for real to all the other Splashdown authors who previewed stuff.
I've read the book. It was a little slow in places, but by the end, it all came together in a satisfyingly DOS-programmer kind of way. You'll have to read it to figure that out. I won't explain more here because of spoilers.
On to today's real topic. I think I'm finished with the book of Jeremiah. Can't be entirely sure since the chronological Bible I'm reading this year rearranges stuff and I haven't checked how many chapters Jeremiah has.
Allow me to set the stage. The northern kingdom of Israel has been scattered, and it's Judah's turn to face judgment for idolatry. The Babylonians relocate the majority of Judah's citizens throughout the kingdom of Babylon. Judah's false prophets are telling everybody this is a temporary setback and they'll be home shortly.
God gives Jeremiah a different story. He tells the Israelites to plant gardens, have kids and settle in for the long haul because they'll be captive for 70 years and they have some repopulating to do in the meanwhile. Naturally, God is right.
What I take from this (especially considering one of my recent posts) is the command to get on with life. Yes, things are difficult. Yes, I'm in an alien land facing unknown dangers. However, life goes on until it stops. Plant my garden and live.
I'm not saying I'll be having children any time soon (or at all, for that matter), but I want to take this as a new resolution to occupy until Christ's return. I will write because I don't know the future. I will save for retirement because I don't know the future. I will hope in Christ, my only hope, because He's the only future that matters.
The garden is planted, Lord. Now to tend it.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
The Faith Awakened Video Campaign
Having seen a number of other authors’
successes with viral video collections, I decided to give it a go myself. The
videos didn’t need to have anything much to do with the book – as long as they
were funny, watchable and shareable and included the book details somewhere. I
lived in Germany
at the time and roped in lots of my friends to play parts. So you have a bunch
of people holding my book who don’t even understand English. They were pretty
good sports about it! Remember this was way back in 2007, with my first video
camera, and judge accordingly...
Find Grace:
Info on Faith Awakened
Blog Tour Sites:
Friday, August 10, 2012
The Silver Key
"When Randolph Carter was thirty he lost the key of the gate of dreams." The Silver Key, H.P. Lovecraft
Do you ever read an interview by an author who sounds so excited about writing? He just can't spend enough time at the computer. She can't wait to get up and blurt out that next chapter.
I occasionally hate those people.
I remember being excited about writing. In college, I wrote all the time. If I wasn't in class or getting a frozen yogurt from the gas station across the street, I was writing. It was mostly melodramatic garbage, but some fun ideas came from it. Elementals. A Star To Sail By (you all don't know about that one, but if the Earth continues to exist, I will write it). Past Ties, which laid the groundwork for Star of Justice and future forays into that world. Several really goofy romances that may or may not see the light of day. I couldn't write enough.
I hit thirty and something happened. I grew up. I looked around. I saw the world for the near-the-end place I believe it to be and nothing mattered anymore. Why write a book no one will have money to buy or energy to read? I became a fatalist, and the key to dreams slipped out of my hands.
"He had read much of things as they are, and talked with too many people. Well-meaning philosophers had taught him to look into the logical relations of things, and analyse the processes which shaped his thoughts and fancies."Oh, Mr. Carter, I understand. That's the greatest horror of all. The horror of too much understanding.
"They had chained him down to things that are, and had then explained the working of those things till mystery had gone out of the world.How do you write fanciful stories when you don't believe in fairy tales anymore? It is hard, dear reader. Very hard.
Doubt creeps in. Every typed word is over-analyzed and sterilized to correctness. Have I provided enough motivation? Am I missing some new scientific discovery that makes my storyline obsolete and ridiculous? When will I read that final comment that shatters any desire I have to share the stories I've dredged from the looming cynicism my life threatens to become?
I'm not depressed at the moment. I wish I were. I wish I could blame this on some chemical imbalance, but to do that, I'd have to say I've been mildly depressed for 10 years. Maybe I have. Reality can do that.
I keep hoping going through the motions will revive that excitement. One day I'll wake early to rush to my keyboard and spew out my next epiphany. Since the sun keeps rising and electricity keeps flowing, I'll keep trying. I have enough hope left for that.
Happy Friday, everybody. We have the day. Make the best of it.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Horror According to Lovecraft
I've never felt an inclination to write horror. Well, except for that time I read the spaceship chapter of How To Survive A Horror Movie. Part of me really, really wants to write a space horror spoof, but it would so NOT be glorifying to God I'm not sure I can justify it, even for the funny.
Lovecraft knows horror, and his early works managed creepy crawly without even describing the creepy crawly too much. That is my biggest gripe with some of his early stuff. There's only so much "unnameable hideousness" and "indescribable horror" I can tolerate before I want him to try to describe it.
He gets more graphic in the 1920's, so I won't dwell overlong on that criticism.
Here's what's scary according to Lovecraft:
Murky water (swamps, sludge-covered oceans, bogs) that eventually erupts with corrosive smells and blobby or gigantic figures from hell.
Ancient, abandoned cities visible only in unnatural moonlight that echo with weird screams and either suggest or disgorge blobby or gigantic figures from hell.
Cellars found in old houses or ancient, abandoned cities that lead to hell and often involve glimpses of or encounters with blobby or gigantic figures.
Caverns that lead to hell and... yeah, you get the idea about the creatures, right? The blobby or disproportionally large non-human creatures made the more hideous by a small resemblance to humanity in an otherwise completely alien life form?
Stars that glow with reddish light and cause hysterical dreaming and the occasional parallel dimension traveling.
Parallel dimensions visible in drug-induced states that reveal glimpses of hellish, other-worldly creatures that would destroy us all if they bothered to notice we're here.
Swarthy, low-browed subhumans of far-below animal intelligence who somehow manage to exist in otherwise civilized cities.
Anything that pre-dates human civilization, especially savage rites involving human sacrifice.
Funny thing. He's right about the water and the cellars/caverns, and I'm willing to give him a nod on the abandoned cities. I've never been creeped out by a star before, and I won't be trying any consciousness altering drugs stronger than a Melted Snowball, but I've gotta admit, the man knows horror.
Thinking should I ever write that space horror story, I'll have to work a blobby giant in somewhere.
Lovecraft knows horror, and his early works managed creepy crawly without even describing the creepy crawly too much. That is my biggest gripe with some of his early stuff. There's only so much "unnameable hideousness" and "indescribable horror" I can tolerate before I want him to try to describe it.
He gets more graphic in the 1920's, so I won't dwell overlong on that criticism.
Here's what's scary according to Lovecraft:
Murky water (swamps, sludge-covered oceans, bogs) that eventually erupts with corrosive smells and blobby or gigantic figures from hell.
Ancient, abandoned cities visible only in unnatural moonlight that echo with weird screams and either suggest or disgorge blobby or gigantic figures from hell.
Cellars found in old houses or ancient, abandoned cities that lead to hell and often involve glimpses of or encounters with blobby or gigantic figures.
Caverns that lead to hell and... yeah, you get the idea about the creatures, right? The blobby or disproportionally large non-human creatures made the more hideous by a small resemblance to humanity in an otherwise completely alien life form?
Stars that glow with reddish light and cause hysterical dreaming and the occasional parallel dimension traveling.
Parallel dimensions visible in drug-induced states that reveal glimpses of hellish, other-worldly creatures that would destroy us all if they bothered to notice we're here.
Swarthy, low-browed subhumans of far-below animal intelligence who somehow manage to exist in otherwise civilized cities.
Anything that pre-dates human civilization, especially savage rites involving human sacrifice.
Funny thing. He's right about the water and the cellars/caverns, and I'm willing to give him a nod on the abandoned cities. I've never been creeped out by a star before, and I won't be trying any consciousness altering drugs stronger than a Melted Snowball, but I've gotta admit, the man knows horror.
Thinking should I ever write that space horror story, I'll have to work a blobby giant in somewhere.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Nightmares and H.P. Lovecraft
I won't be reading Lovecraft right before bed anymore.
Although I have been chewing on The Complete Collection of H.P. Lovecraft as compiled by cthuluchic from Amazon for Kindle at the ridiculously reasonable price of .99 for approximately 4 months like a ghoul gnawing on a freshly dug corpse, I have yet to pass the 25% mark.The man was prolific.
I've seriously enjoyed most of the stories and been completely creeped out by several of them (The Outsider and The Picture In The House being two I remember clearly). The Rats in the Walls gave me shudders, but Pickman's Model was apparently too much.
Yes, after reading that story, I succumbed to a terror so intense that after waking, I couldn't decide if I wanted to turn on the light to assure myself that all was well or leave it off in case it wasn't. The last time I had a nightmare that intense was following the debut of The Grudge.
This particular nightmare involved siblings Ivy and Isaiah, the basement level of a concrete parking garage and a child's toy whose unnatural proportions spoke of eldritch planes of existence. Yep. Been reading too much Lovecraft.
I won't stop reading, but I will be doing it earlier in the day. With all the lights on. And the curtains open. And a cat or two nearby. And maybe a neighbor.
Where's that nightlight?
Although I have been chewing on The Complete Collection of H.P. Lovecraft as compiled by cthuluchic from Amazon for Kindle at the ridiculously reasonable price of .99 for approximately 4 months like a ghoul gnawing on a freshly dug corpse, I have yet to pass the 25% mark.The man was prolific.
I've seriously enjoyed most of the stories and been completely creeped out by several of them (The Outsider and The Picture In The House being two I remember clearly). The Rats in the Walls gave me shudders, but Pickman's Model was apparently too much.
Yes, after reading that story, I succumbed to a terror so intense that after waking, I couldn't decide if I wanted to turn on the light to assure myself that all was well or leave it off in case it wasn't. The last time I had a nightmare that intense was following the debut of The Grudge.
This particular nightmare involved siblings Ivy and Isaiah, the basement level of a concrete parking garage and a child's toy whose unnatural proportions spoke of eldritch planes of existence. Yep. Been reading too much Lovecraft.
I won't stop reading, but I will be doing it earlier in the day. With all the lights on. And the curtains open. And a cat or two nearby. And maybe a neighbor.
Where's that nightlight?
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Plumping Up on Bubbly Pies
If you've read any of Anne McCaffrey's dragons of Pern books, you know what a "bubbly pie" is. You know it has crystallized sugar around the edges and bubbles in the middle when it comes out of the oven and remains delicious even when cooled. You suspect it's about the size of a personal pot pie and contains some kind of berry filling. It's a special treat and when they're made, you stuff yourself. Oh, you don't know how to make one. You don't have a chance in Hades of ever eating one. But you want one.
You also know the people drink klah, some kind of hot beverage made from bark that to my mind is a hot chocolate-cinnamon hybrid. You know they use numbweed to anesthetize wounds - a salve distilled at great effort from aloe-like plants harvested on the Southern Continent. You've slurped into a redfruit and saddled a runnerbeast and oiled a fire lizard.
You know how you've done these things? Through description.
Creating a world is a complicated process, but showing that world to your readers takes work. It takes description. It takes you the author presenting your case to the reader in an interesting way that engages their senses through that most amazing sense organ - the brain.
I'm all for stories moving forward. I resent useless description as much as the next LOTR-fan who's slogged through three pages of hills to get to the "point." However, stories that move forward by sacrificing sensory details and world-setting descriptors leave me flat.
If you don't want to get rain in your eye, or stuff a sausage in your mouth, or dodge spatter from a sword fight, don't pick up my book. Go to those mainstream authors who write so fast you're panting by the time you turn the last page. I have no problem with that.
I'll be here trying to make bubbly pies.
You also know the people drink klah, some kind of hot beverage made from bark that to my mind is a hot chocolate-cinnamon hybrid. You know they use numbweed to anesthetize wounds - a salve distilled at great effort from aloe-like plants harvested on the Southern Continent. You've slurped into a redfruit and saddled a runnerbeast and oiled a fire lizard.
You know how you've done these things? Through description.
Creating a world is a complicated process, but showing that world to your readers takes work. It takes description. It takes you the author presenting your case to the reader in an interesting way that engages their senses through that most amazing sense organ - the brain.
I'm all for stories moving forward. I resent useless description as much as the next LOTR-fan who's slogged through three pages of hills to get to the "point." However, stories that move forward by sacrificing sensory details and world-setting descriptors leave me flat.
If you don't want to get rain in your eye, or stuff a sausage in your mouth, or dodge spatter from a sword fight, don't pick up my book. Go to those mainstream authors who write so fast you're panting by the time you turn the last page. I have no problem with that.
I'll be here trying to make bubbly pies.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Brighter Morning
A six and a half hour nap bracketed by the Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law Sherlock Holmes movies has helped restore some perspective. That, and some ice cream.
Every artist has those moments when she looks at her art and despairs. It isn't Star of Justice so much. That book is done, and I'm trying to move on.
Price of Justice has me climbing walls. Mom suggested I stop writing it, but that's impossible. It's my next book. You'll all just have to bear with me when the compost that is my initial draft overwhelms my sense of perspective.
What you must understand, dear reader, is that ultimately my writing is my responsibility. I can have the best crit group in the world, the best editors, the best publisher, even the best intentions, but it all boils down to "what will I do with this story?"
That isn't arrogance. I can ask "what do you think I should do?" but you'll give me your opinion, not the answer to life, the universe and everything. If I ask that question of every person, I have, at best, a democratic parody where the majority rules and, at worst, a different opinion for every person I ask. What am I supposed to do with that?
I don't want to write by majority rule. I have to work out my own problems in my own way and that's all there is, really.
I'm just not accustomed to feeling so lost so early. Oh well. Inward and upward.
On a brighter note, God gave me one of those little treasures I seek. A moth flew into my car on Saturday, a big, brown moth that went right under my dashboard where I didn't have a hope in heaven of finding it and getting it out to continue its short life. Tears flowed until I looked up and discovered the moth fluttering against the passenger side window, waiting to be released. A silly thing, yes, but it's my silly thing. Thank You, Lord.
Thank you, too, for my friends who took a moment to support me. I love you guys. I'm doing better.
Every artist has those moments when she looks at her art and despairs. It isn't Star of Justice so much. That book is done, and I'm trying to move on.
Price of Justice has me climbing walls. Mom suggested I stop writing it, but that's impossible. It's my next book. You'll all just have to bear with me when the compost that is my initial draft overwhelms my sense of perspective.
What you must understand, dear reader, is that ultimately my writing is my responsibility. I can have the best crit group in the world, the best editors, the best publisher, even the best intentions, but it all boils down to "what will I do with this story?"
That isn't arrogance. I can ask "what do you think I should do?" but you'll give me your opinion, not the answer to life, the universe and everything. If I ask that question of every person, I have, at best, a democratic parody where the majority rules and, at worst, a different opinion for every person I ask. What am I supposed to do with that?
I don't want to write by majority rule. I have to work out my own problems in my own way and that's all there is, really.
I'm just not accustomed to feeling so lost so early. Oh well. Inward and upward.
On a brighter note, God gave me one of those little treasures I seek. A moth flew into my car on Saturday, a big, brown moth that went right under my dashboard where I didn't have a hope in heaven of finding it and getting it out to continue its short life. Tears flowed until I looked up and discovered the moth fluttering against the passenger side window, waiting to be released. A silly thing, yes, but it's my silly thing. Thank You, Lord.
Thank you, too, for my friends who took a moment to support me. I love you guys. I'm doing better.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
The Little Things
"It's the little things in life you treasure." Fred Kwan, Galaxy Quest
Normally, I agree with Fred. Celebrate the small stuff because that's all most of us will ever see.
The last couple of weeks, however, it's been hard to enjoy even the small stuff. I want to blame hormones, but it's more likely the little, unexpected, mostly unpleasant changes happening in my life.
The Olympics have put a complete end to my TV routine for I don't know how long. That shouldn't be a bad thing, but it is disruptive. One of my cats has cavities that must be treated. Several of my friends are changing their life circumstances in ways that directly affect my life circumstances. My car sickens while I put aside money to buy a new one. My dog sprouts these little blisters that may or may not be heat-related. My daily Bible reading just finished Isaiah and has started in Jeremiah. Have you read Jeremiah? Road construction has forced a change of driving routine and added about 5 minutes to my commute, which totals 20 minutes more a day in the hot car avoiding stupid people in the same situation. Grandma Turtle's one year anniversary just passed and I miss her. I have a tingling in my left hand that may be nerve-related instead of jaw-related and I don't want to deal with it. I intended to garden this morning and instead spent two hours trying to deal with my hacked email account. I'm now so wound up with frustration, I don't know what to do with myself.
Yes, they're all small, ultimately meaningless tripe, but they're wearing me down.
Add to them the writing issues, and I'm thinking about packing up my cats and moving somewhere far, far away. Not Idaho. Apparently stupid people live there.
I eavesdrop on several writing groups. I rarely jump in for various reasons depending on the group, but I follow the discussions somewhat. I need to stop.
Aslan tells Lucy in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader that no good comes from eavesdropping, and he's right. Proverbs says gossip is like a tasty morsel going down that sours the stomach. I've got the stomach to prove it.
I now worry that I didn't do justice to Ehsu's dialogue, that good stories don't include God because God as the ultimate superpower removes all tension, that my preferred writing style (and reading style, btw) of "plump with description" instead of "action-focused" (I may post on that later) means I'm a poor writer who lacks the ability to edit herself and that writing as a job will shortly go the way of the dodo, so everything I do at this computer is utterly meaningless.
That could be the depression talking.
It's important to remember, people, behind the arrogance of the writer is a huge well of self-doubt. We're putting ourselves out there in a show of bravery, but that doesn't mean we're brave or that we have everything figured out or that we even think we've done a good job. It just means we're trying.
I'm my own worst critic. I don't need more reasons to doubt myself.
I am searching for those little things to treasure, but at the moment, they are few and far between. I hope your life is full of them.
Normally, I agree with Fred. Celebrate the small stuff because that's all most of us will ever see.
The last couple of weeks, however, it's been hard to enjoy even the small stuff. I want to blame hormones, but it's more likely the little, unexpected, mostly unpleasant changes happening in my life.
The Olympics have put a complete end to my TV routine for I don't know how long. That shouldn't be a bad thing, but it is disruptive. One of my cats has cavities that must be treated. Several of my friends are changing their life circumstances in ways that directly affect my life circumstances. My car sickens while I put aside money to buy a new one. My dog sprouts these little blisters that may or may not be heat-related. My daily Bible reading just finished Isaiah and has started in Jeremiah. Have you read Jeremiah? Road construction has forced a change of driving routine and added about 5 minutes to my commute, which totals 20 minutes more a day in the hot car avoiding stupid people in the same situation. Grandma Turtle's one year anniversary just passed and I miss her. I have a tingling in my left hand that may be nerve-related instead of jaw-related and I don't want to deal with it. I intended to garden this morning and instead spent two hours trying to deal with my hacked email account. I'm now so wound up with frustration, I don't know what to do with myself.
Yes, they're all small, ultimately meaningless tripe, but they're wearing me down.
Add to them the writing issues, and I'm thinking about packing up my cats and moving somewhere far, far away. Not Idaho. Apparently stupid people live there.
I eavesdrop on several writing groups. I rarely jump in for various reasons depending on the group, but I follow the discussions somewhat. I need to stop.
Aslan tells Lucy in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader that no good comes from eavesdropping, and he's right. Proverbs says gossip is like a tasty morsel going down that sours the stomach. I've got the stomach to prove it.
I now worry that I didn't do justice to Ehsu's dialogue, that good stories don't include God because God as the ultimate superpower removes all tension, that my preferred writing style (and reading style, btw) of "plump with description" instead of "action-focused" (I may post on that later) means I'm a poor writer who lacks the ability to edit herself and that writing as a job will shortly go the way of the dodo, so everything I do at this computer is utterly meaningless.
That could be the depression talking.
It's important to remember, people, behind the arrogance of the writer is a huge well of self-doubt. We're putting ourselves out there in a show of bravery, but that doesn't mean we're brave or that we have everything figured out or that we even think we've done a good job. It just means we're trying.
I'm my own worst critic. I don't need more reasons to doubt myself.
I am searching for those little things to treasure, but at the moment, they are few and far between. I hope your life is full of them.
Friday, July 27, 2012
The Swamp in July
Taking advantage of a rare not-100-degrees-at-6-AM morning, I wandered the garden and snapped a few pics.
My Swamp has been through a lot in the last year. Sewer line replacement, tree removal, and drought have all taken their toll, yet some beauty remains, mostly thanks to the annuals.
Bermuda grass is taking over with abandon. I'm letting it because it's keeping the little soil I have from blowing away in the humid Kansas wind. I will regret that decision but I'm not about to go fight Bermuda grass in 106 degrees. In case you're not familiar with Bermuda grass, it loves the heat, it grows by seed and by runners and it's almost impossible to kill. It's pretty much a weed but most Kansans put up with it because it actually grows here. I hate grass, so I hate Bermuda grass. It's that simple.
My "Early Girl" tomato has officially broken through its support and creeps toward the house, I suspect, in pursuit of fresh fertilizer. I'm extremely wary of reaching into its depths to pick tomatoes for fear my arm won't come back out. Mom suggests a short story will come of it. She may be right.
I'm thinking I may take tomorrow morning, you know, before 8 AM and 100 degrees, to go out back and try to restore some semblance of order. Then again, I may wait until December's probable mid-80 temperatures to tackle it. At this rate, another few months will see the entire back yard consumed by Bermuda and all I'll have to do is mow.
I hate mowing, too. I'm not letting this garden go without a fight.
My Swamp has been through a lot in the last year. Sewer line replacement, tree removal, and drought have all taken their toll, yet some beauty remains, mostly thanks to the annuals.
Bermuda grass is taking over with abandon. I'm letting it because it's keeping the little soil I have from blowing away in the humid Kansas wind. I will regret that decision but I'm not about to go fight Bermuda grass in 106 degrees. In case you're not familiar with Bermuda grass, it loves the heat, it grows by seed and by runners and it's almost impossible to kill. It's pretty much a weed but most Kansans put up with it because it actually grows here. I hate grass, so I hate Bermuda grass. It's that simple.
My "Early Girl" tomato has officially broken through its support and creeps toward the house, I suspect, in pursuit of fresh fertilizer. I'm extremely wary of reaching into its depths to pick tomatoes for fear my arm won't come back out. Mom suggests a short story will come of it. She may be right.
I'm thinking I may take tomorrow morning, you know, before 8 AM and 100 degrees, to go out back and try to restore some semblance of order. Then again, I may wait until December's probable mid-80 temperatures to tackle it. At this rate, another few months will see the entire back yard consumed by Bermuda and all I'll have to do is mow.
I hate mowing, too. I'm not letting this garden go without a fight.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Schedule Interrupted
Like my cats, the Turtle is a creature of habit.
My schedule this week has been filled with unexpected, although not necessarily unwelcome, interruptions and they are taking a toll. I handled last night's loss of Internet rather well, I think, although it did lead to a somewhat restless sleep as I considered my options should it not be restored. My posting this means I have Internet for the moment.
A normal person probably takes change in stride and compensates. I must assume this since I'm not a normal person. Change staggers me and throws all life into confusion until routine is restored. No wonder I relate so strongly to Dr. Sheldon Cooper. His issues are my issues.
I will hopefully make it through the rest of the week with my patience intact, although I expect some manner of retribution to occur Saturday. We'll see.
If you don't see me hanging about FB or email on schedule, it's because my Internet quit again and I'm hammering my modem into a charm bracelet to pass the time.
My schedule this week has been filled with unexpected, although not necessarily unwelcome, interruptions and they are taking a toll. I handled last night's loss of Internet rather well, I think, although it did lead to a somewhat restless sleep as I considered my options should it not be restored. My posting this means I have Internet for the moment.
A normal person probably takes change in stride and compensates. I must assume this since I'm not a normal person. Change staggers me and throws all life into confusion until routine is restored. No wonder I relate so strongly to Dr. Sheldon Cooper. His issues are my issues.
I will hopefully make it through the rest of the week with my patience intact, although I expect some manner of retribution to occur Saturday. We'll see.
If you don't see me hanging about FB or email on schedule, it's because my Internet quit again and I'm hammering my modem into a charm bracelet to pass the time.
Monday, July 23, 2012
What My Book Says About You
Yes, I'm doing it again. I'm reading my own interpretations into your perfectly normal and reasonable actions.
Since I've handed over that brick, I've heard "Dragon-worshippers? So they're the bad guys?", "Ooo, shape-shifters," and my personal favorite so far, "Blood? You wrote a book with blood in it?" Each of these statements says more about the speaker than me. Why assume dragon-worshippers are bad guys? What makes "shape-shifters" stand out? Why is it so surprising I would write about blood? Have you met me?
Most readers are familiar with the idea that a book says a lot about
the author. Unless you're a reading machine who devours books the way
some devour gummi bears and never bother to think about them as you go, I
suspect at some point you've read a passage and wondered what the
author had to go through to come up with that idea. At least, I hope you
have. It's OK to think about a book as more than a story.
I
maintain the first book an author writes is a therapy book: meaning,
intentionally or unintentionally, we write it as part of our own
therapy. I may think this because I trained as a marriage and family
therapist and tend to view the world through that lens (relax. It's a
strengths-based lens and I'm looking for what's right with you, not
what's wrong). I will concede - grudgingly - that the first book
written may not be the first book published, but I suspect it is more
often than not.
Why? Because writing and completing a book is hard work. Very hard work. Something
drives the author to work that hard not only to finish but share his
masterpiece, and I posit it is his desire to tell his story in whatever
altered form his subconscious dreams up. He may disagree if he wishes,
but I will apply Shakespeare's "the lady doth protest too much,
methinks" and he'll lose anyway. No offense, gentlemen.
I've written in this topic elsewhere, and I'm sure I'll write about it again, so I'll move on to my title theme.
What
I did not realize before I published is how often a reader approaches
my book with an automatic bias. The difference may be that I now hand
over a brick with a picture on the cover and a concise little blurb on
the back that supposedly sums up the story (it doesn't, really. No blurb
ever does justice to the real story) which allows the reader to form an
opinion other than "Good Lord! That's a 4 inch, two ream, 6 lb binder
you're handing me!" And God bless all of you who took it.
Since I've handed over that brick, I've heard "Dragon-worshippers? So they're the bad guys?", "Ooo, shape-shifters," and my personal favorite so far, "Blood? You wrote a book with blood in it?" Each of these statements says more about the speaker than me. Why assume dragon-worshippers are bad guys? What makes "shape-shifters" stand out? Why is it so surprising I would write about blood? Have you met me?
It's almost as
interesting as the questions and comments I get after the book is read.
It's fascinating to see which parts capture people's attention,
especially when I compare their reactions to what I intended when I
wrote it or what I wanted people to take away from it.
TT: It is
amazing how we manage to communicate with each other at all. Our
separate experiences and focuses are so different, how can my words mean
the same thing as your words, and how does that meaning travel through
sound or sight and take up residence in your brain in any shape remotely
similar to my intention? Wow. Just...wow.
I almost didn't write
this because I fear shutting down those comments and questions that
fascinate me so much, like Captain Picard who couldn't think what to say
when he discovered the empath loved listening to his voice. I do hope
you'll keep asking and commenting. It's my story, after all. I want to
tell it.
Friday, July 20, 2012
The Definitive Guide to Star of Justice
Great idea, huh? A sort of Cliff's Notes version of my 400+ page monster?
As part of this new Splashdown Blog Tour idea, we authors can submit snippets of our works to pique interest in readers and tell why we like those snippets. This led me to consider my favorite snippets. Guess what? Almost all of them contain plot spoilers.
I'm not saying you can't swing a small dragon without hitting a plot point in my book, but...almost. I am saying the bits I love the best are the bits where you the reader get a solid dose of character angst or plot revelation. Those were the parts I lived for, and I spread them around liberally.
One of the few daydreams I do have about Star of Justice is seeing it show up as "recommended reading" for an English class, or, when I get really high on Melted Snowballs, a textbook for "Great American Authors." One of my greatest fears is my book showing up in such a class and everybody getting it "all wrong" when it comes to interpretation. Why I wrote what I wrote. What I meant to convey as opposed to what the reader gets out of it. I've seen what history has done to Tolkien.
Control freak that I am, it is tempting to consider writing a Definitive Guide for future reference. Hard to argue my intentions when I spell them out for you on paper. Not impossible. Just hard. However, since such a book would be one giant spoiler, I suppose I'll write it on the sly and request my great-nieces publish it posthumously.
As part of this new Splashdown Blog Tour idea, we authors can submit snippets of our works to pique interest in readers and tell why we like those snippets. This led me to consider my favorite snippets. Guess what? Almost all of them contain plot spoilers.
I'm not saying you can't swing a small dragon without hitting a plot point in my book, but...almost. I am saying the bits I love the best are the bits where you the reader get a solid dose of character angst or plot revelation. Those were the parts I lived for, and I spread them around liberally.
One of the few daydreams I do have about Star of Justice is seeing it show up as "recommended reading" for an English class, or, when I get really high on Melted Snowballs, a textbook for "Great American Authors." One of my greatest fears is my book showing up in such a class and everybody getting it "all wrong" when it comes to interpretation. Why I wrote what I wrote. What I meant to convey as opposed to what the reader gets out of it. I've seen what history has done to Tolkien.
Control freak that I am, it is tempting to consider writing a Definitive Guide for future reference. Hard to argue my intentions when I spell them out for you on paper. Not impossible. Just hard. However, since such a book would be one giant spoiler, I suppose I'll write it on the sly and request my great-nieces publish it posthumously.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
The goddess Nike
I got about 3 hours of sleep, which forcibly reminds me, once again, to NOT drink a Melted Snowball after 5 PM. Yes, it was maybe 4 oz. Yes, that's all it takes to keep The Turtle wide-eyed into the wee hours. Stupid espresso.
We got some lovely rain last night, too, and I was wide awake to enjoy it. Thank You for that, Lord.
When writing inspiration lacks, my last resort is following the precepts of the goddess Nike and "just doing it." Sometimes, you just need to do something. Last night, after my espresso and before my failed attempt to sleep, I edited pages 50 to 57. I pared down the telling, corrected directional issues and once again got the story back on track.
I refuse to allow two paragraphs to hold me up for two weeks anymore. It's just silly. I have an entire book to tell stuff in, and if I can't find the right spot in 400 pages, I can write a short story later. No big deal. This is writing, not rocket science. Just do it.
Here's hoping tonight's writing time will see similar, if not more substantial, success.
We got some lovely rain last night, too, and I was wide awake to enjoy it. Thank You for that, Lord.
When writing inspiration lacks, my last resort is following the precepts of the goddess Nike and "just doing it." Sometimes, you just need to do something. Last night, after my espresso and before my failed attempt to sleep, I edited pages 50 to 57. I pared down the telling, corrected directional issues and once again got the story back on track.
I refuse to allow two paragraphs to hold me up for two weeks anymore. It's just silly. I have an entire book to tell stuff in, and if I can't find the right spot in 400 pages, I can write a short story later. No big deal. This is writing, not rocket science. Just do it.
Here's hoping tonight's writing time will see similar, if not more substantial, success.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
38 Down, 56 To Go
Page 38 of my WIP has stumped me for weeks. I sit at the computer, open the file, and stare at page 38 while it mocks me with its inaccuracy. Actually, I stared at two paragraphs of page 38 that just didn't fit there. Monday night I finally figured out how to cut them (turns out I just "cut" them and pasted them into my delete file. Why did that take me so long?). Circulation returned, the rest of the chapter now made sense and I moved on with my story.
Then I ran into page 56. Same thing. Timeline out of whack. Directions all messed up. Motivations unclear. It's more than one or two paragraphs this time. I'm looking at what could be "telling" or what could be the ramblings of an increasingly unhinged narrative mind (no, I don't mean me).
Caissa's narrative is generally straight forward with occasional detours as bits of trivia get sucked along for the ride. In SoJ, I worked to keep this extraneous info in her spoken dialogue and generally only when she was under stress.
Well, she's under stress from page 1 (actually, pg 50) in this book, so the extraneous info keeps oozing into her thoughts/general narration.
I can't have her say it, because her companion knows most of it. There'd be no point. I'm considering cutting it, but some of it should be known and this is really the best place I can imagine to bring the reader up to speed. So, last night, I stared at page 56 and it glared back, mocking me with its bloated inaccuracy.
I refuse to be stopped for weeks, though. It is way past time to be done with this foolishness, so, tonight, with my bag of Doritos beside me and the promise of half an hour of Sherlock "A Study in Pink" as my reward, I will untangle this silly mess and move on.
It really is the least I can do.
Then I ran into page 56. Same thing. Timeline out of whack. Directions all messed up. Motivations unclear. It's more than one or two paragraphs this time. I'm looking at what could be "telling" or what could be the ramblings of an increasingly unhinged narrative mind (no, I don't mean me).
Caissa's narrative is generally straight forward with occasional detours as bits of trivia get sucked along for the ride. In SoJ, I worked to keep this extraneous info in her spoken dialogue and generally only when she was under stress.
Well, she's under stress from page 1 (actually, pg 50) in this book, so the extraneous info keeps oozing into her thoughts/general narration.
I can't have her say it, because her companion knows most of it. There'd be no point. I'm considering cutting it, but some of it should be known and this is really the best place I can imagine to bring the reader up to speed. So, last night, I stared at page 56 and it glared back, mocking me with its bloated inaccuracy.
I refuse to be stopped for weeks, though. It is way past time to be done with this foolishness, so, tonight, with my bag of Doritos beside me and the promise of half an hour of Sherlock "A Study in Pink" as my reward, I will untangle this silly mess and move on.
It really is the least I can do.
Monday, July 16, 2012
How to Resussitate a Drowned Spider or Insect Should You Ever Really Want To
I warned you.
Have no fear, arachnophobes. I'll show no pictures.
First, the spider must be newly drowned. If more than a few minutes have elapsed, your only course of action is respectful disposal of the corpse. Unless your conscience calls for an act of contrition. I'll leave that up to you.
Get the spider out of the water. Bit obvious, yes, but must be said.
Depending on how long he's been in the water, he may be a little crumpled. If so, use a sturdy piece of paper or cardboard as a support. I recommend taking him outside for the rest. If you're successful in your efforts, you'll have a live spider on your paper awake and ready to explore the world. If you're not, you can put him on the compost bin and go about your business.
Using a small paintbrush, carefully "paint" the spider out of its crumpled position into something resembling a normal spider resting pose. Legs should be untangled and body as straight as possible. I cannot stress how important it is to be gentle at this point if you don't want bits of detached spider sticking to your paintbrush. The paintbrush serves the purpose of not only being more gentle than your big, clumsy finger but it also removes the water that soaked into the poor little spider's exoskeleton. The paper helps with this, too.
If you see signs of movement at this time, don't freak out. It may be life returning or it may be the spider's legs collapsing inward from lack of blood pressure (meaning it's really dead and you should go through his pockets and look for loose change).
Once the spider's body has been returned to a semblance of normalcy, leave him alone. Put the paper in a quiet, shaded spot where the wind won't blow it away but the air has a chance to circulate and continue the drying process. Check on him as often as your nerves can handle.
If you're successful, the spider will revive and leave. If you're not, have some ice cream and try to get over it. You did more than 99.9% of people would ever do for a spider.
That's something.
Have no fear, arachnophobes. I'll show no pictures.
First, the spider must be newly drowned. If more than a few minutes have elapsed, your only course of action is respectful disposal of the corpse. Unless your conscience calls for an act of contrition. I'll leave that up to you.
Get the spider out of the water. Bit obvious, yes, but must be said.
Depending on how long he's been in the water, he may be a little crumpled. If so, use a sturdy piece of paper or cardboard as a support. I recommend taking him outside for the rest. If you're successful in your efforts, you'll have a live spider on your paper awake and ready to explore the world. If you're not, you can put him on the compost bin and go about your business.
Using a small paintbrush, carefully "paint" the spider out of its crumpled position into something resembling a normal spider resting pose. Legs should be untangled and body as straight as possible. I cannot stress how important it is to be gentle at this point if you don't want bits of detached spider sticking to your paintbrush. The paintbrush serves the purpose of not only being more gentle than your big, clumsy finger but it also removes the water that soaked into the poor little spider's exoskeleton. The paper helps with this, too.
If you see signs of movement at this time, don't freak out. It may be life returning or it may be the spider's legs collapsing inward from lack of blood pressure (meaning it's really dead and you should go through his pockets and look for loose change).
Once the spider's body has been returned to a semblance of normalcy, leave him alone. Put the paper in a quiet, shaded spot where the wind won't blow it away but the air has a chance to circulate and continue the drying process. Check on him as often as your nerves can handle.
If you're successful, the spider will revive and leave. If you're not, have some ice cream and try to get over it. You did more than 99.9% of people would ever do for a spider.
That's something.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Rift Jump by Greg Mitchell
Rift Jump by Greg Mitchell
The day Michael
Morrison died was the day his life began.
A sinister threat is growing in the void between realities,
and Michael has been recruited to stop it. Ripped from his own violent life, he
is sent rift jumping to other worlds seeking out the agents of the Dark and
putting them to an end by any means necessary. The love of his life, Sara,
joins him as he battles Civil War space ships, sea serpents, superpowered
humans, and even his own duplicate from a parallel timeline.
But the darkness he fights is growing within him too,
calling him to the same destiny as every other Michael from every other world.
If he is to change his fate, he must learn to love, to forgive, to trust, and
to let the man in the Stetson guide him to become the warrior of the Light he
was always meant to be.
Interview with Greg
Mitchell
How did you get
started writing fiction?
Because I find non-fiction boring. :p As a child, I actually
wanted to be a Disney animator (back when they still drew their cartoons), then
I wanted to write and draw comic books. My art was never quite up to my
standard, though, and I felt really limited in the stories I could tell. Then I
set my sights on making movies, but then I was also limited. I had these really
huge concepts, but couldn’t find the money to finance the films. I began taking
my silver screen stories to prose, where there is no budget. The sky’s the
limit. I think in writing fiction, I’ve finally found a way to tell stories
where there are no boundaries.
Why did you choose to
sign on with Splashdown Books?
I’ve known Grace for awhile and had always wanted to work
with her on a project. Have a little jam session. I admire and respect her and
what she’s done with Splashdown a great deal. When I started writing Rift Jump, I knew that there was no way
a traditional or “typical” Christian publisher would ever take it. It’s very
strange, kinda gritty, and a hard genre to nail down (even I have trouble describing it!) and I feared none of the mainstream
types would know what to do with it, marketing-wise. Heck, I wasn’t even sure
Grace would know what to do with it, but I sent it to her nonetheless and, to
my joy, she readily accepted it.
What
are your contact links: web sites, blogs, Facebook, Twitter links, your book's
page, etc.?
I’m everywhere!
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/thecomingevil
Twitter: http://twitter.com/TCEauthor
To order Rift Jump:
http://www.splashdownbooks.com/darkwater/rift-jump
Visit the following
blogs on this Splashdown Blog Tour for Rift
Jump by Greg Mitchell.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Stay Tuned
Splashdown Books, my publisher, is trying something new to us. All of us SB authors will join in a twice a month blog tour of a newly-released SB book and an older title. We're just getting started so we may experience a few glitches as we go.
I don't follow blog tours generally, but I've been checking out the sites of my fellow authors this morning and enjoying the results. My own glimpse of Greg Mitchell's Rift Jump posts tomorrow (and will stay up through the weekend), but if you're curious now, you can start with Kat Heckenbach's site (on my Blogs I Follow list) and then follow the links she's posted at the end of her interview. Every blog will have something different about the book and the author, so take a few minutes to jump around the Internet while you're drinking your coffee. You may accidentally enjoy yourself.
It's certainly more fun than waiting for Farmville to load 4 times.
I don't follow blog tours generally, but I've been checking out the sites of my fellow authors this morning and enjoying the results. My own glimpse of Greg Mitchell's Rift Jump posts tomorrow (and will stay up through the weekend), but if you're curious now, you can start with Kat Heckenbach's site (on my Blogs I Follow list) and then follow the links she's posted at the end of her interview. Every blog will have something different about the book and the author, so take a few minutes to jump around the Internet while you're drinking your coffee. You may accidentally enjoy yourself.
It's certainly more fun than waiting for Farmville to load 4 times.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
TUTAW: You Won't Be There
A long, long time ago, a published author told me odds are, I won't be there when a reader picks up my book. I won't be standing beside them in the store. I won't be sitting next to them when they turn the first page. I won't be able to explain anything they don't understand.
This led to my first rule in accepting critiques: don't argue.
I will not argue with a crit partner when she brings up something that bothers her. I may ask more questions to get to the root of the problem, but I will not try to explain what I meant and leave it at that.
Because I won't have that chance with a reader.
If my meaning isn't clear, it's my fault. I'm the writer. I'm the one with something to say. It's up to me to say it as clearly as I know how.
It's true some people will never understand me. Not because of any lack on their part or my part but because our life experiences are so different we have no point of common ground on which to build. Those people will glance at my stories and move on. I'm OK with that. I suspect they are, too.
However, there is no reason for the vast majority of people, especially those people who would normally read my genre, to misunderstand me. My meaning should be clear, even if the meaning is "I'm not going to give you a definitive answer to that question."
TT: Be very careful how often you do that, btw. It irritates the snot out of people.
You've been warned. You won't be there. Write accordingly.
This led to my first rule in accepting critiques: don't argue.
I will not argue with a crit partner when she brings up something that bothers her. I may ask more questions to get to the root of the problem, but I will not try to explain what I meant and leave it at that.
Because I won't have that chance with a reader.
If my meaning isn't clear, it's my fault. I'm the writer. I'm the one with something to say. It's up to me to say it as clearly as I know how.
It's true some people will never understand me. Not because of any lack on their part or my part but because our life experiences are so different we have no point of common ground on which to build. Those people will glance at my stories and move on. I'm OK with that. I suspect they are, too.
However, there is no reason for the vast majority of people, especially those people who would normally read my genre, to misunderstand me. My meaning should be clear, even if the meaning is "I'm not going to give you a definitive answer to that question."
TT: Be very careful how often you do that, btw. It irritates the snot out of people.
You've been warned. You won't be there. Write accordingly.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Staring at God
The Big Guy and I are having a staring contest over at
The Cheesecake Thickens.
Right here, too:
Maybe you've been there, too.Right here, too:
It should surprise none of my readers that I am a verbal person. My
college years were spent learning therapeutic communication. My learning
style is primarily auditory (which means I rocked at lecture classes). I
think in words, not pictures, and certainly not emotions.
I have,
at times in my life, been at a loss for words. Generally bad times. The
most vivid was the year I spent so angry at God all I could say to Him
was The Lord's Prayer. I said it sullenly, but I said it. I was like
those disciples who remained after Jesus' hard teaching turned the
crowds away. "Where else can we go?" they asked. "Only You have the
truth." I don't like you very much, but You're all I've got, so I better
stick close, you big meanie. OK, that part wasn't in the Bible story,
but I'm sure some of them were feeling it.
I'm
not angry at God (much), but I'm tired. I've said everything I know how
to say. I've pleaded, I've begged, I've railed and I've cried. I don't
have any more words.
I'm watching people I love do stupid things.
I'm watching people I care about go through intense trials. I'm fighting
my own exhaustion and interrupted schedule and losing. My garden dies
for lack of rain, and I find dead sparrows in the parking garage
stairwell. Every little pain seems amplified into mortal wounding and
I'm tired of talking about it. Even to God.
So, He and I stare at
each other. I don't understand what He's thinking or doing (I never
have), but I'm not going anywhere and neither is He. I've said it all.
It's His turn to speak, if He chooses. I'm listening.
Friday, July 6, 2012
The Joys of Cutting
Just reset my WIP word count and I'm pleased to announce I've lost 4K words. Don't worry. I plan to add about 80K more, so you'll have plenty to read when I'm done. "Telling" got cut. Way too much telling.
I discovered it's very easy to cut things if, instead of just "deleting," I move them to a "future events" file. I trick my brain into thinking I'll use them somewhere else, and then I don't mind removing them from where they are. Odds are, I'll never use any of it in its entirety, but don't tell my brain, OK? This is working.
Took two tries to get started writing last night, but the second was moderately successful. I'm back at the part where Rhami is going two directions at once (pg 38 - Oi) and I'm pushing past it. My first draft had them arrive way too soon (over-sight) and consequently, I'll have to rearrange a bit to get the timeline back in sync. It's wibbly-wobbly, so shouldn't present too much of a problem.
I'm going to have to write a TUTAW (The Ugly Truth About Writing) about the hard work involved in planning. I sort of did such a post a month ago, but I have more to say. Or maybe just more organized things to say.
Speaking of organized...
We Splashdown folks are working on a how-to book (seriously hoping that's not a secret) and I'm contributing a chapter. Talk about pressure. Allow me to explain.
Teaching requires mastery. Lots of teachers don't know this, which is why America's education system is in the mess it's in.
I'm no master at writing. At best, I'm an idiot savant. Mostly an idiot with flashes of brilliance. That doesn't mean I have the foggiest notion how to transmit those momentary flashes into something concrete and replicable (Is that a word? Spell check offered it). Yet, I'm asked to comment on a topic with enough authority to justify purchase by a student of writing. Pressure indeed.
It is reminiscent of my college English days, except this time, I understand what the teacher wants from me.
TT: Poor Mrs. Warren. I really had no idea, dear lady, and you tried so hard to explain. It's not your fault. My brain was saturated with the arrogance of youth, frozen yogurt and the dazzling novelty of social interaction. You couldn't have gotten through with hot fudge and pecans. I'm very sorry.
I've written the first draft of that how-to chapter. My deadline was last Saturday, but we all got a slight extension, so I'll be fiddling with it over the weekend. I suspect at some point, we'll play Mad-Hatter's-Tea-Party for editing purposes and I'll be rewriting as well as editing for others. At least I hope so. Even I know I'm not ready for publication after two drafts.
I discovered it's very easy to cut things if, instead of just "deleting," I move them to a "future events" file. I trick my brain into thinking I'll use them somewhere else, and then I don't mind removing them from where they are. Odds are, I'll never use any of it in its entirety, but don't tell my brain, OK? This is working.
Took two tries to get started writing last night, but the second was moderately successful. I'm back at the part where Rhami is going two directions at once (pg 38 - Oi) and I'm pushing past it. My first draft had them arrive way too soon (over-sight) and consequently, I'll have to rearrange a bit to get the timeline back in sync. It's wibbly-wobbly, so shouldn't present too much of a problem.
I'm going to have to write a TUTAW (The Ugly Truth About Writing) about the hard work involved in planning. I sort of did such a post a month ago, but I have more to say. Or maybe just more organized things to say.
Speaking of organized...
We Splashdown folks are working on a how-to book (seriously hoping that's not a secret) and I'm contributing a chapter. Talk about pressure. Allow me to explain.
Teaching requires mastery. Lots of teachers don't know this, which is why America's education system is in the mess it's in.
I'm no master at writing. At best, I'm an idiot savant. Mostly an idiot with flashes of brilliance. That doesn't mean I have the foggiest notion how to transmit those momentary flashes into something concrete and replicable (Is that a word? Spell check offered it). Yet, I'm asked to comment on a topic with enough authority to justify purchase by a student of writing. Pressure indeed.
It is reminiscent of my college English days, except this time, I understand what the teacher wants from me.
TT: Poor Mrs. Warren. I really had no idea, dear lady, and you tried so hard to explain. It's not your fault. My brain was saturated with the arrogance of youth, frozen yogurt and the dazzling novelty of social interaction. You couldn't have gotten through with hot fudge and pecans. I'm very sorry.
I've written the first draft of that how-to chapter. My deadline was last Saturday, but we all got a slight extension, so I'll be fiddling with it over the weekend. I suspect at some point, we'll play Mad-Hatter's-Tea-Party for editing purposes and I'll be rewriting as well as editing for others. At least I hope so. Even I know I'm not ready for publication after two drafts.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
My Bed, My Enemy
Mom tells a story from my childhood when my cat jumped on a hamster cage in the middle of the night. The cage fell over, the hamster escaped briefly, the cat protested the loss of a snack and I slept through the whole thing, even though it happened in my room.
Those days are long gone.
I may be legally blind, and what I smell is more often in my brain than in the air, but my ears work just fine. Unless I'm absolutely exhausted or drugged on Benedryl, I hear everything both inside and outside my house.
I hear the cats moving around in the basement. I hear the dog sigh in her sleep. I hear the wind in the trees, and I hear the train crossing the tracks in the wee hours of the morning. You'd think I'd be used to the train by now. I'm not.
I know how to "go to bed." For the most part, I turn off everything "stimulating" one hour before I lie down. No TV. No books. No radio. No intense activity, although I do a little tidying so I won't stay awake worrying about what needs to be done in the morning.
My eyes burn. My eyelids are heavy. My mind seems calm (although how can one truly tell with a mind?).
I lie down, I turn off the light, and everything wakes up. It's like those old baby dolls with the weighted eyes only in reverse. I stand up; I'm tired. I lie down; I'm still tired, but sleep is impossible.
I know all the experts say to get up and do something, but I don't. I'm mentally prepared to toss and turn in a darkened room at 2 AM, but I can't handle the thought of sitting in a chair at the same time. I always have the chance I'll fall asleep lying down. That will never happen in one of my chairs.
I suspect part of it is the heat. Can't really sleep when I'm either throwing off covers for being too hot or flailing around for covers when the air kicks on. That's an every 90 minute cycle.
I suspect part of it is July 4th. I never sleep well with either the threat of fire or the intermittent noise. My neighbors don't just set their death-makers off at once. Oh, no. Near as I can tell, they space them out every 15 to 30 minutes just to guarantee I'm awake. Last night, I'm pretty sure they left to buy more around midnight so the fun could continue until I had no chance whatsoever for a decent night.
Hey, at least the house is still here, right?
I'm most excited about going to work on a Thursday, which is generally a hard day anyway, that will now double as a second Monday after a holiday. Good times await, I'm sure.
Those days are long gone.
I may be legally blind, and what I smell is more often in my brain than in the air, but my ears work just fine. Unless I'm absolutely exhausted or drugged on Benedryl, I hear everything both inside and outside my house.
I hear the cats moving around in the basement. I hear the dog sigh in her sleep. I hear the wind in the trees, and I hear the train crossing the tracks in the wee hours of the morning. You'd think I'd be used to the train by now. I'm not.
I know how to "go to bed." For the most part, I turn off everything "stimulating" one hour before I lie down. No TV. No books. No radio. No intense activity, although I do a little tidying so I won't stay awake worrying about what needs to be done in the morning.
My eyes burn. My eyelids are heavy. My mind seems calm (although how can one truly tell with a mind?).
I lie down, I turn off the light, and everything wakes up. It's like those old baby dolls with the weighted eyes only in reverse. I stand up; I'm tired. I lie down; I'm still tired, but sleep is impossible.
I know all the experts say to get up and do something, but I don't. I'm mentally prepared to toss and turn in a darkened room at 2 AM, but I can't handle the thought of sitting in a chair at the same time. I always have the chance I'll fall asleep lying down. That will never happen in one of my chairs.
I suspect part of it is the heat. Can't really sleep when I'm either throwing off covers for being too hot or flailing around for covers when the air kicks on. That's an every 90 minute cycle.
I suspect part of it is July 4th. I never sleep well with either the threat of fire or the intermittent noise. My neighbors don't just set their death-makers off at once. Oh, no. Near as I can tell, they space them out every 15 to 30 minutes just to guarantee I'm awake. Last night, I'm pretty sure they left to buy more around midnight so the fun could continue until I had no chance whatsoever for a decent night.
Hey, at least the house is still here, right?
I'm most excited about going to work on a Thursday, which is generally a hard day anyway, that will now double as a second Monday after a holiday. Good times await, I'm sure.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
OK, I Did It
I did. I won't do it again, I'm sure, but I did it.
I went to Amazon to look at Star of Justice.
I know. I said I wouldn't, and I big fat went and did it anyway.
Fortunately, nothing has changed, except it now says there are four books in stock. That means for those of you waiting for them to be "in stock" to buy, you may now buy.
Still have two reviews. My rank is somewhere in the 1.3 million area (first time I looked at that). I assume that's where I started.
That's fine. I'm good with that. I'm not looking anywhere else. Just sleep-deprivation getting the better of me.
Happy 4th, everybody. Hope you enjoy flirting with death this evening. I know I won't.
I went to Amazon to look at Star of Justice.
I know. I said I wouldn't, and I big fat went and did it anyway.
Fortunately, nothing has changed, except it now says there are four books in stock. That means for those of you waiting for them to be "in stock" to buy, you may now buy.
Still have two reviews. My rank is somewhere in the 1.3 million area (first time I looked at that). I assume that's where I started.
That's fine. I'm good with that. I'm not looking anywhere else. Just sleep-deprivation getting the better of me.
Happy 4th, everybody. Hope you enjoy flirting with death this evening. I know I won't.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
A Rant Is Brewing
I'm not lost yet. I have a few threads of self-control waiting to snap, but they're fraying rapidly.
I could comment on the stupidity of married people. Don't you understand you're our example? It's up to you to show us singles that the whole "becoming one" thing is worth it.
You're failing miserably.
I could comment on the stupidity of people in general. Don't you understand that three weeks of no rain and 100+ temperatures translates into "don't set off bottle rockets and Roman candles in your backyard," even if it is the Fourth of July? And really don't do it past 11 PM on a work night, or I will call the cops on your drunken buttocks, you selfish morons. And I'll give them a reason to book me into jail because you'll have had a little accident in the wait.
TT: I asked God to just kill them. Or at least maim them severely enough to have to go to hospital and leave me in peace. He didn't. He's nicer than I am, which is why you should all be grateful I'm not God.
I could go on ad nauseum about the loading issues I'm having with my computer and the Internet. It isn't just Farmville now. I can't tell if my DSL is acting screwy again or if some update didn't load properly, and frankly I'm at the end of whatever rope I'm not hanging myself with.
But, since I have those few threads wrapped so tightly around my self-control it's turning blackish-purple, I won't rant. No point. Doesn't change a thing.
Have a great Fourth, people. Try not to blow yourselves up. Or don't. Don't really care at the moment.
I need a nap.
I could comment on the stupidity of married people. Don't you understand you're our example? It's up to you to show us singles that the whole "becoming one" thing is worth it.
You're failing miserably.
I could comment on the stupidity of people in general. Don't you understand that three weeks of no rain and 100+ temperatures translates into "don't set off bottle rockets and Roman candles in your backyard," even if it is the Fourth of July? And really don't do it past 11 PM on a work night, or I will call the cops on your drunken buttocks, you selfish morons. And I'll give them a reason to book me into jail because you'll have had a little accident in the wait.
TT: I asked God to just kill them. Or at least maim them severely enough to have to go to hospital and leave me in peace. He didn't. He's nicer than I am, which is why you should all be grateful I'm not God.
I could go on ad nauseum about the loading issues I'm having with my computer and the Internet. It isn't just Farmville now. I can't tell if my DSL is acting screwy again or if some update didn't load properly, and frankly I'm at the end of whatever rope I'm not hanging myself with.
But, since I have those few threads wrapped so tightly around my self-control it's turning blackish-purple, I won't rant. No point. Doesn't change a thing.
Have a great Fourth, people. Try not to blow yourselves up. Or don't. Don't really care at the moment.
I need a nap.
Monday, July 2, 2012
The Lost Princess
In my continuing search for an alternate title for Elementals, I'm considering The Lost Princess.
Yes, it's been done before, but hear me out.
1) It has been done before. An Amazon search yields four titles, meaning I increase my odds of getting seen by people looking for something else. It could also be said I risk losing attention as a potential reader gets distracted or confused by those other titles, but I may be willing to take that chance.
2) It could apply to either princess. Glorya certainly gets physically lost and Dyana is the prodigal sheep. Am I mixing my parables?
Why not go for the plural, then? Because "princesses" sounds stupid and is annoying to hiss at people. Better to keep it simple and singular.
3) I'm not finding any one or two words to express the multiple dualistic elements of the story. I considered "Essentials," but it sounds like a feminine hygiene product or a line from Victoria's Secret. I'm not OK with people finding that in a search. Suggestions from my test readers tend to focus on one or the other of the story lines, depending on their preferences, so I'm not getting anywhere that way. I've been thinking of it as Elementals for so long, I'm nearly useless in calling it anything else.
4) Finally, it pays homage to one of my favorite authors and favorite books: George MacDonald's The Lost Princess, which I found in my Amazon search, btw. Of course, there is only one princess in that story (Agnes is a shepherd's daughter) but nothing is perfect.
I'm not devoted to the idea, but it's the best I've managed so far.
Why change it? You've asked that before. I'm not sure I should, but since I have creatures called "elementals" in Star of Justice, I don't want readers to think that this book has anything to do with that world other than the same author. It doesn't. I don't even have a sequel planned for Elementals, although a few ideas have floated about in the empty space between 3 and 4 AM.
Which reminds me I'm once again cycling through insomnia, so beware. Crankiness always follows lack of sleep for the turtle.
Yes, it's been done before, but hear me out.
1) It has been done before. An Amazon search yields four titles, meaning I increase my odds of getting seen by people looking for something else. It could also be said I risk losing attention as a potential reader gets distracted or confused by those other titles, but I may be willing to take that chance.
2) It could apply to either princess. Glorya certainly gets physically lost and Dyana is the prodigal sheep. Am I mixing my parables?
Why not go for the plural, then? Because "princesses" sounds stupid and is annoying to hiss at people. Better to keep it simple and singular.
3) I'm not finding any one or two words to express the multiple dualistic elements of the story. I considered "Essentials," but it sounds like a feminine hygiene product or a line from Victoria's Secret. I'm not OK with people finding that in a search. Suggestions from my test readers tend to focus on one or the other of the story lines, depending on their preferences, so I'm not getting anywhere that way. I've been thinking of it as Elementals for so long, I'm nearly useless in calling it anything else.
4) Finally, it pays homage to one of my favorite authors and favorite books: George MacDonald's The Lost Princess, which I found in my Amazon search, btw. Of course, there is only one princess in that story (Agnes is a shepherd's daughter) but nothing is perfect.
I'm not devoted to the idea, but it's the best I've managed so far.
Why change it? You've asked that before. I'm not sure I should, but since I have creatures called "elementals" in Star of Justice, I don't want readers to think that this book has anything to do with that world other than the same author. It doesn't. I don't even have a sequel planned for Elementals, although a few ideas have floated about in the empty space between 3 and 4 AM.
Which reminds me I'm once again cycling through insomnia, so beware. Crankiness always follows lack of sleep for the turtle.
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