My Best Advice

This is another post I should save for NAF, but I hate finding pics to go with topics.

Finish what you start writing. It's that simple.

I should have taken the time and energy 23 years ago to finish the stories I am trying to write today. I didn't have the discipline back then, but that would have been an excellent thing to practice, too.

When you're 19 years old, and you come up with a story idea, odds are it's going to be fairly simple. Doesn't mean it's bad. Just means it's not going to have the same kind of complexity that a writer with more life experiences can add (nothing like a job, a mortgage, and 8 mouths to feed to teach you about layers of conflict). Fewer characters. More direct, obvious plot ideas. A thick, black Sharpie line of a story. That's fine when you're 19 years old. You earn your million words of practice, so you may as well earn it finishing such ideas as jumping from idea to idea and only writing the "interesting" parts, which is what I did. That's why I have a bunch of story "fragments" I used to consider book-worthy.

Problem is, when a writer tries to take those 23 year old ideas and mold them into what she now considers "book-worthy," more often than not, they don't fit. There are some good ideas, and a dollop of passion or conflict, but she's learned that's not all that goes into a good book. They might make novellas. They might make fine short stories or chapters, but they aren't going to carry 100K words into the hearts of her fans. "A closet nerd takes an unexpected trip through time with a robot assassin" is a good elevator pitch, but if you don't have more than that to back it up, you're humped.

But what if you want your older self experience to make something great out of those old ideas? Well, good luck. I suspect if you finish them when you're young, you'll clear the way for bigger, better, more complex ideas that grow with you. Like Aslan. 

I have a lot of 23 year old story ideas, but those may not a book make. Dangling Justice is about that closet nerd, but my 19 year old self didn't know about Ah'rahk, or Caissa, or Rhami when she thought of that idea with the robot assassin. Now my 42 year old self has the job of turning a simple idea into something worth writing, and hopefully, worth reading.


Happy Thursday, dear readers.  Finish what you start writing. Words to live by.

Embrace the Angst

I should type this up for NAF, but I'm just too lazy.

I've railed for a while (two years?) about how hard writing is, how I don't know where the plot is going, how I have too many choices, blah, blah. "It's not like Star of Justice!" I whine. "Even with Elementals, I had a final scene." Boo hoo.

I want my writing process to be all clinical and rational and easily contained in my current schedule. I don't want to get obsessive, like with Star of Justice, or painful, like Elementals. I just want to sit down and write a nice, complicated, thought-provoking, rollicking ride of hilarity and bittersweet depth in an hour a day without any hitches or interruption of regularly scheduled programming.

That isn't too much to ask.

Except I don't think that's how it works for me. I think all my books will be therapy books. They will emerge from chaos, frustration and inconvenience. Creation is hard. Ask a mom in labor, if you can get that close without bodily harm.

It's like trying to garden without breaking a sweat. Rarely happens. Most times I come in looking like Sasquatch.



So I'm not going to fight it anymore. I will embrace the self-loathing, the false starts, the wrong turns and rewrites. I will stomp around and snarl at the cats. I will even stay up past 9 (gasp!) if the words start flowing at 8:30. Yeah, I might be snappy at work, but I'm back in the corner, so who cares? 

Have I resolved this before? I don't think so. This feels like a moment of clarity. Which is good, 'cause it may be the last I have for a while.

Happy Thursday, dear readers. May your day be as easy as you make it.

Not Much On Stamina

Endurance is not my thing. I'm great with quick projects I can start and finish in an hour, or a night. Occasionally a week. I don't have the patience for long-term investments of time and energy (which is a real problem where writing is concerned).

This is a devolution of character. I used to blame Farmville, but I suspect it's more a factor of age and environment. I rarely need to keep going, so I don't. I tend so many cats just so I have a reason to get up most days.

The garage sale pile grows, but it should have grown even more last night. Problem was, I got home, I sat down, and I didn't want to get up again. I know the laws of thermodynamics. If I want to stay in motion, I need to be in motion.

Or, I need to break it down into tasks I can finish in one night. Clear this closet. Go through that bin of bedding. I have 10 ten days. Surely I can force myself to clean house for 20 hours over 10 days. I'm already liking the more open feel of the basement, and seeing the bottom of the guest closet. Isn't that enough reason?

We'll see.

Happy Tuesday, dear readers. What's in your closet?

Back to Faith

This was one of those "anxious" weekends, where the little issues of life log-jammed against a wall of "what will I do now?" I don't know about you, but I can carry a bit of that before I identify the nausea as "worry."

I'm buying new glasses. I want a new mattress. I want to renovate the Guest Room before the next guest gets here. All that costs money, and we know the Turtle doesn't like being reminded of her limited resources.

I have a book to publish. I have a rose bed to transplant from one suburb to another. I have Summer in The Swamp to contend with. I have no zucchini sprouts. I have a front room full of garage sale stuff that, God willing, will leave in two weeks, but what if it doesn't? I'm stepping over a houseguest for the next 9 days, who isn't really a problem, but he's a pea-sized difference in schedule that this Princess does notice, especially when he gets underfoot as I'm carrying boxes.

My dreams this weekend (when I was able to sleep) were endless pruning of rose bushes and searching for lumber and losing cats in warehouse-sized mazes. That's not good. 

It's time to pray. Some people love to quote that "God helps those that help themselves" maxim, but it's a load of compost and, as far as I can tell, completely unBiblical. God helps those who cannot help themselves. None of us are adequate to any task without Him, except possibly rebellion. I need to bring the Big Guy in on the plan, and then hand it over to Him to solve as He has done time and again for me. All that worry time needs to become prayer and trust time.

Happy Monday, dear readers. Hand God your problems today. He's ready for them.

Procrastination Makes the World Go 'Round

It never ceases to amaze me what I will do in an effort to avoid doing something.

I have a book to prepare. What have I been doing instead? Rearranging the house. The Guest Room, specifically.

Part of it is Grace's advent. Part of it is the rainy weather that prevents me from working off my daily stress outside. But part of it is absolutely procrastination about the next book.

I rationalize this by telling myself the Guest Room will become The Writing Room. The place where my laptop and I go to "get away" from the cats and the TV so I can hunker down and be all productive. It might even be true. That was my intent with the porch.

I just dropped a huge wad of cash on new glasses because I now need bifocals, and I'm starting to seriously notice the fact. I've been having problems with headaches and tired eyes, and I hope the new glasses will help (I also use artificial tears to combat dryness and that helps a bit).

I would like to buy a new mattress, but the one I'm considering costs $1200. The salesman called it $1199 to make it more palatable, but I worked retail and I know that trick. With sales tax, I'm looking at $1317, which is steep. Maybe too steep, now that I write it out.

I should look at book production as a way to afford that mattress, and perhaps I should mentally tie the purchase of the mattress to book sales. As in, I won't buy a mattress with anything other than book money.

Yeah, right. 

Anyway, this sudden outpouring of cash has made me reconsider the Guest Room renovations in terms of steps: what I can afford now vs. what can wait, and what I can likely do by myself vs. what I would want help with.

Building requires planning, so I sit in the guest room and plan a pipe dream instead of executing another pipe dream, thus achieving a state of perfect procrastination.

Happy Friday, dear readers. May you be as productive as you wish to be.

Favors

I mentioned on FB that I might have to call in the "guilt chip" on The Brothers in regards to my Guest Room plans. That led to the comment from a cousin that brothers are generally willing to help if the guilt chip isn't used too often. That led to counting, which is odd, because I don't like math.

I've lived here 14 years. Big Brother has, in order,
1) built my library stacks in the basement
2) replaced all my kitchen cabinets and counter tops with leftovers from a nursing home contracting job (and it's SO BEAUTIFUL!)
3) built a floor-to-ceiling shelving unit for my bedroom that replaces a chest of drawers and provides sleeping cubbies for the cats.
4) replaced my bathroom vanity and toilet
5) built the front room catwalk

That rounds up to 1 project every three years. Is that excessive?

I have 3 more projects, though:
1) new deck stairs. The current ones are...not good.
2) replacing windowsills, although the foam insulation filler I sprayed in this winter is currently doing a fine job of keeping the birds from nesting.
2) Guest Room plans, which might take a couple of weekends, although he's pretty quick.

That's 3 projects in one year, which means I couldn't ask for another thing from him for 9 years.

He might be amenable to that deal.

Of course, I keep forgetting to mention that while Big Brother is a former contractor, Elder Brother is an excellent hobbiest woodworker, and has built all manner of shelves and desks and whatnot for his home. I could get a two-for-one if I play my cards right and buy enough steak.

Happy Wednesday, dear readers. Be nice today. 

Change of Plan

Over at Virtual Buttercups, I posted about some screened-in porch plans I kicked around. I've changed my mind. I'll tell you why over there (eventually), but since the plans evolved to inside the house and The Swamp is outside, I'll give you the new plan over here.

I've mentioned how small my house is: 823 square feet upstairs, according to the mortgage. While I generally consider this a comfortable size for the Turtle, I see many opportunities for better utilization of space.

One of these opportunities is what I call The Guest Room. It's a 10' x 11' foot "second bedroom." I assume it was intended for a nursery that a normal family would grow out of with the advent of Child Two and move on to another house. The biggest problem with The Guest Room is the set of double wide windows (like 80 x 80 inches, if you're buying curtains) that form the wall facing the street. Hardly evokes a sense of privacy, and causes all manner of heating, decorating and security issues.

TT: If I really had my druthers, I'd remove those windows and replace them with a solid wall and a small bank of windows or acrylic blocks at eye-level. That's a pipe-dream that will only see fulfillment if Mom wins the lottery and shares the wealth.

In the fourteen years I've lived here, The Guest Room has served to house ferrets, a fish tank, a make-shift solarium, all the clothes that don't fit in the master closet, one Kiwi, and currently the upstairs litter box. It tends to be the room all "stuff not currently in use" goes to collect dust. This is a complete waste of 121 square feet (did I do that math right?) out of 823.

I'd love to use it as an office, or an art room, or an upstairs library or a real guest room with an actual bed, but I've never sat down and done the planning. Until last night.

I pulled out my tape measure, graph paper and all the pent-up, not-playing-Farmville-at-night-anymore energy I could muster and started planning.

I'm pretty happy with the results. Not only do I think this can be done for far less money and effort than building a screened-in porch, I believe it will finally allow me to use a space I've avoided for 14 years and give the cats and I an almost-screened-in porch feel.

I'll be posting about this more in the next few weeks, I'm sure, especially if the current rainy weather pattern that is keeping me inside continues.

Happy Tuesday, dear readers. Enjoy your not-Monday.

Farmville Isn't the Problem

I knew it wasn't anymore. These two weeks proved it. My problem is addiction to mindless activity.

I didn't want to quit FV only to take up another game, but that is what has happened. Instead of watching TV and planting and harvesting, I've been watching TV and playing solitaire or Bubble-spinner. That's no improvement.

I can tell the FV addiction is gone. I'm fine doing something else when the TV isn't on. I'm relieved that I'm not tackling tasks or vulturing feeds or waiting for harvest time. It's liberating.

But as any good therapist (or Jesus) will tell you, you can't just stop doing something. You have to do something else as well. The goal is to make the "something else" worthwhile. Ultimately, we're all exchanging one addiction for another. My addiction used to be writing. During The Depression, it turned to FV. I'm trying to turn it back to writing, but my brain has atrophied.

I've repurposed Virtual Buttercups for recording the ups and downs of life out in The Swamp. That will get me back into writing regular posts about a topic I enjoy in a place I like, and playing with media (videos), as Grace Bridges once recommended. The Turtle is best appreciated in 3D surround-sound, but it's a start. Slow and steady, right? Maybe I'll attract a following of fellow swamp-dwellers.

Happy Friday, dear readers. May you use your brain well today.

My Idea of Heaven

A couple months ago, I was musing about eternity. I want to spend it in a small house in the middle of a huge garden (I'm talking Rhode Island-sized), taking care of all the cats, squirrels, rabbits, turtles, frogs, etc. that were abused or destroyed by thoughtless, careless humans on Earth. I see myself alone in this scenario, other than the animals, and Jesus' daily stop-in.

TT: Jesus is incarnate now, so I constantly wrestle with how He can be everywhere at once. It seems clear to me that after the resurrection, He is a "new creation," both fully God and fully man, transfigured. God the Father and the Holy Spirit remain spirits only, but Jesus is something else.  I don't see His return to Heaven means He shed His new body, which the gospels go to great lengths to show was physical, which also means Heaven is a physical place, even if it exists in another dimension. But this is another post.

This realization surprised me. I have a lot of loved on The Other Side, and I'd like to see them again, but it seems I don't want to spend all eternity living in their pockets. Why should I? They don't want to live with me now, why should they share my comfortable hole in the hill forever? Get your own hole. It's Heaven. There's plenty of room.

Now I've read Revelation. I know all about New Jerusalem, but I also know it "comes down out of Heaven," meaning it isn't Heaven. It's a city in Heaven/on Earth, whatever. I'm totally willing to visit, but I don't want to live in a city for all eternity, and I don't care what it's made of. I hate the city. I only live in a city because I'm unwilling to kill my own meat. And because I don't want to star in a horror film about a cabin in the woods.

Jesus knows me. If He's preparing a place, it's going to be someplace I will love. I guess I'm just surprised at what that definition currently is.

Happy Thursday, dear readers. Put your galoshes on. Gonna be a wet morning in Kansas.

Elementals To-Do List

If I want Elementals out to "the public" this August, I have a few things to do.

1. Read it. Again. For final edits. This is the hardest part. I don't feel any urge to read this book one more time. I'm a little sick of it. That's why I haven't looked at it for two years. On the other hand, it may as well be out there potentially earning money while I ignore it instead of waiting on my hard drive.

2. Choose a cover image. I have something I like, but it's not my original pic, so I either need to draw/create something close myself or find a similar pic I can buy. Frankly, after the complaints with Star of Justice, my cover concept excellently rendered by Keven and DeAnna Newsome of Newsome Creative and completely trashed by nearly every reviewer, I just don't care as much as I used to.

3. Choose a font. I'm really hoping Grace will latch on to this item. I hate font-choosing.

4. Read up on formatting for ebooks. Caprice Hokstad, Terri Main, R.L. Copple and maybe even Grace have all written on this topic, and I saved every email. I'll need a week, probably, to go through all of them, but it sounds fairly easy once you get the hang of it.

5. Read up on CreateSpace. This seems to be the vehicle of choice for printing books. I like physical books, and I am willing to put up the money to create them.

6. Buy ISBNs. I hear the price has gone up. Not too much, I hope. I want a few, just in case I get back in the habit of this writing thing.
    An ISBN costs $55?! Holy crap! Gonna need to figure that into the break-even cost. Sheesh.

7. Write some cover copy. I'm not nearly as concerned about this as I should be. My goal is simply to maximize searchability while trying to keep it slightly interesting to a potential reader. How hard can that be?

That's all I can think of at the moment, but I'm sure I'll be adding to it. I may even blog about the journey.

Happy Tuesday, dear readers. Keep an eye to the sky. Today could get rowdy for some of us.

Helping by Shel Silverstein

Although I've sung this song since third grade (when I first saw Free to Be You and Me in music class), I had no idea until this morning that Shel Silverstein wrote this poem.

In honor of all the people in my life...

Help - Free to Be

I love you all, although some of you are more useful than others. 

Aquasynthesis...Again

Have I mentioned Grace published a short story of mine in an anthology? I know I said it on FB, but I can't remember if I blogged about it, and, frankly, this morning I'm too lazy to look it up.

If you want to know about Caissa Ocren's Test of Water, get Aquasynthesis...Again. Print version is $4.99; ebook $2.99. I've finally put the link over there to the left. Splashdown Books has all the ways and places the book is available, so the link goes there.

I need to order some for myself. Makes a great deal at speaking engagements. "Get autographed copies of Star of Justice and Aquasynthesis...Again for $20." That comes out to $1 for the autograph, so it's hardly a great deal, but people love the appearance of a bargain.

I've hesitated to tout Star of Justice for the simple reason that I'm currently a one-hit wonder. Yes, I could make money on the one, but then I breed ill-will by not providing a second. Worse, I build unreasonable expectations for the second, which only makes me squirm.

Once Elementals is available, I'll have two books and an anthology. I'm willing to shill for that. The second book barrier is broken by a book that has nothing to do with the world of the first, and a third book should be, God willing, on the way in a year or so. With my new knowledge of self-publishing, I'll be able to make my own anthologies of short stories when and if the mood takes me, and the inventory builds.

Happy Thursday, dear readers. Is it really Thursday? Wow.

Goodbye, Farmville?

I've played Farmville, on average, three hours a day almost every day for about three and a half years. That's a lot of time, most of it enjoyable for me. So enjoyable, I used to blog daily about the game at Virtual Buttercups.

Farmville fit easily into my daily routine. I played while the cats ate. I played while I did laundry. I played while I watched TV. It provided a satisfying illusion of multi-tasking and mastery. At worst, it passed the time while I waited for something else to happen.

I've tried to be a helpful Neighbor to those who play and a considerate Friend to those who don't (I've always said I'm an addict, not a dealer). Last year, Zynga and I had our final falling out when customer service failed resoundingly to solve a problem to my satisfaction. Knowing that I will never again spend money on the game, that I will never get more farmcash as a result, has taken most of the joy out of playing.

Three hours a day (at least) is a lot of time I could be using for something else (spell that W-R-I-T-I-N-G). I suspect, it's also time that dulls my brain. I don't have to think while playing Farmville, and I don't. But the not thinking seems to extend to other areas, and I can't have that anymore. It is far easier to plant a crop than write a scene, but the scene is more important.

So, I'm quitting. I've limited play this week to half an hour in the morning while the cats eat and I listen to Focus on the Family. I'm emptying my giftbox. I'm putting my fields in order. I'm not feeling any withdrawal yet, but it's early. We'll see.

I have a book to publish this August. I'll need the time to prepare. Then I have a book to finish this year. I'll need brain power for that.

I'm not deleting the app. I'm not going cold turkey. I need the option to resume play to make sure I don't resume play. Call it immaturity. As long as it works.

Happy Tuesday, dear readers. May you find the strength to overcome your addictions. When you're ready, of course. No judgment here. 

A Little Time

Two posts in one week? That hasn't happened for a while. Turns out I have a little time this morning. Not sure why, but I'll take it.

Read some blogs this morning, and the problems of "time" and "focus" are not mine alone. Everyone has trouble with too much to do and not enough time to do it in.

Work and The Swamp have been somewhat overwhelming these last two months. I've stood paralyzed in both places wondering what project is the most important in the pile of important projects. It's not easy for the Turtle to change direction, so direction must be carefully chosen at the beginning to avoid biting heads off later.

The new work project is nearly complete (by "nearly," I mean another month should see it done). The Swamp never ends, but it does get delayed due to weather. My mind is freeing up from crisis mode to think again.

I've been thinking about writing. I intend to self-publish Elementals this summer (with Grace's help on the cover). I need a final round of edits, but I'm afraid after not looking at it for two years, I'll start making changes that shouldn't be made. Nit-picking when I should just leave the nits alone. I did that with Star of Justice, and I regret it now. I lost something in the "smoothing," and I couldn't get it back. I wish you'd all seen it one round of edits earlier. Ah, well.

With Elementals "out of the way," there should be nothing preventing me from focusing entirely on Dangling Justice. Nothing but me, anyway, but that's a post I'm saving for New Authors' Fellowship.

Happy Thursday, dear readers. Pick one thing, and do it 'til it's done.

Making Progress

The garage is as organized as it's getting this year, and possibly more organized than it has ever been. I'm down to three unsorted boxes. Those are papers about Dad and the family that will require a lot of time and tissues. That's why I haven't done it in 14 years. I'll do it when the temps are higher, and I can spread out on the porch to negate the mildew a little. The papers don't seem damaged. It's more the outside of the boxes. Weird.

I'm currently resetting the concrete blocks bordering the driveway. Those have sunk a bit over 14 years, so it's even more labor-intensive than I thought it would be. I set 5 last night and almost killed myself. I have six to go. I think. Moving these will give me a slightly better angle to get the van in the garage. It also looks a lot nicer.

My Memorial Day weekend project -weather permitting- is the first and possibly second run of a chain link fence. After Neighbor to the North disrupted my life with his mortgage forfeiture and subsequent loss of mind and removal of the privacy fence between our property that's been there since the first week they moved in, I determined no Neighbor would again control my fence. I've wanted chain link for years. This is the year it happens. Part of it, anyway. Only hitch is I need to learn how to install a chain link fence. Several websites seem to indicate it's a simple DIY. After years of watching This Old House, that doesn't comfort me.

I'll need to talk with Neighbors to the South to see if they're OK with me removing the pig wire between us. Since it's crumpled in a couple of spots, falling over in others, and I'm not asking them to pay for any of it, I'm hopeful. If not, I'll wait until new Neighbors move in and put up a privacy fence. That seems to be the norm in this neighborhood.

That's the time I have this morning.

Happy Tuesday, dear readers. May your projects come to swift and blessed conclusions.

'Tis the Season

Seems to happen about this time every year. Spring arrives, and the Turtle vanishes into The Swamp.

I suspect this year will be as cold as last year, so I have no intention of planting anything new until mid-May, at least. However, I have lots of things I can transplant, and since they're already living in the cold, they should do fine. I can't describe how good it feels to grab a shovel and the wheelbarrow and do something that requires no thought at all.

I accidentally got put in charge of a huge project at work that's outside my official expertise, so that has been stressful and exhausting. I've come home with just energy mental energy to make dinner and read a little something before falling into bed. Since it's work-related, it's unprofessional to discuss it here, so Swamp time has been especially useful for coping. 

Without intending to, I took April off from writing. I've been making my way through my TBR pile, unfortunately by "tossing" books one to two paragraphs in. Some day I'll figure out exactly what criteria makes a book acceptable to me in such a short span. It's not genre-related. It might have something to do with writing style. I expect a college vocabulary (you know, from back when going to college actually meant something other than you were stupid enough to sell your eternal soul for a degree you don't even get), and a certain clarity of thought in presenting information. Add a reasonably interesting story, and I'm yours to the end.

Example, I discarded a YA book four pages in because not only were the character names stupid and forgettable, I was bombarded with a convoluted and confusing history of China I apparently had to know before I could sympathize with the protagonist's plight. No, thank you. Buh-bye.

I've also picked up my chronological Bible again and spend my normal blog time reading that each morning. I'm only posting today because I'm taking a fasting blood test in an hour so I don't need to make breakfast. I intend to follow the test up with a Subway steak and bacon melt.

Anyway, the work project should be winding down soon, and The Swamp can only hold my attention until temps are consistently in the mid-80's. Grace will be here in a few months, and it will be time to publish Elementals. My WIP remains in my thoughts, and I'll get back to it.

Happy Wednesday and happy May Day, dear readers. Don't forget to pay your bills. Especially that school loan. It's not going away until you do.

In Defense of Rick

I watch The Walking Dead. I think about the zombie apocalypse way too much on way too many levels. Blame the writers.

Season 4b has been completely amazing on just about every level. The writing, the effects, the acting - it's all good. So good, this is the first time I've considering buying a season on DVD. I mean, I like the show, but I'm not completely crazy.

I've started watching Talking Dead because I don't have any real people to talk with about the show (and turtles don't "chat" with strangers on the Internet). I was startled to hear some people have issues with Rick's decision to oust Carol from the prison.

Now, Rick isn't my favorite person on the show. My favorite person is usually the conscience of the group, and usually dies 20 episodes after they assume that role (RIP Dale and Herschel, and I'll be gracious enough to include Andrea because as much as I hated her, I respect her intentions). Rick can't be my favorite because I can't forgive him for the way he holds his revolver. Either build some muscle or get a smaller gun, Rick. You pack like a gangbanger. It's a miracle you hit anything.

Sorry.

Rick has been the official unofficial leader of this group from the moment he stumbled into that cluster of motor homes and tents in season one. Why? Because he was wearing a law enforcement uniform initially, I suspect, but it held because he made good decisions (except about his wife, but that's another post) that benefited the group and individuals.

Rick has the ability to weigh the needs of the many against the needs of the one and come out ahead. Shane (and just about every small group they've encountered) was about survival at any cost. Disagreement with the Governor meant getting your head cut off and stuck in a fish tank. Yes, you can survive that way for a while, but real survival in the zombie apocalypse means finding like-minded people and protecting the snot out of each other. And killing zombies. Nobody seems to understand how many zombies they need to be killing every day, but, again, that's another post.

Carol's crime was murder. Secret murder, but, yes, murder. She killed two people in cold blood. I don't believe she went Hannibal Lector on them, but she made a choice on her own to take two lives.

Her motive was preservation of the group, but she didn't have the right to act on that decision. There was a council in place. She was part of it. She acted alone because the council wouldn't agree with her.

Rick was right to banish her because you can't have a member of the group willing to kill other members of the group whenever they think it benefits the majority. How do you define "benefits"? How do you define "majority"? A year ago Carol would never have gone so far. What will she be like in another year (should she survive that long)?

I understand Carol's reasoning. I sympathize, but she went too far. Rick's solution was just and merciful. He could have killed her himself (which would have been wrong on the same scale as what Carol did in the first place). He could have brought her back to the group for sentencing, which would have created another giant mess and further shattered group cohesion. Instead, he gave Carol a chance to find another group and start over. Again, his choice was for the group and for the individual. And Carol recognized that. Even in that moment, she acknowledged his leadership and accepted the sentence, even if she doesn't appear to accept that she made the wrong choice.

I love Carol, but sometimes love has to be tough. Rick understands that (and it unfortunately makes him a bit crazy now and again). It's why he's a good father and a good leader in the zombie apocalypse. If only he would figure out how to hold a gun.

Happy Wednesday, dear readers. May our zombies be so easy to kill.

Scrivener

I've heard about it from Lioness (who has the Mac version) and Ralene (who has the PC version). It's supposed to be incredibly helpful for organizing any kind of writing in the first draft stage, whether you plot or pants. It has "index cards," split screens, calendar features for monitoring story timelines: you know, a real miracle for the modern writer.

There was a sale. I had some money. I took the plunge.

I hate learning new software. More than almost anything. Forging neural pathways is excruciating to me, no matter how useful they might become. Over the last three days, I'm halfway through the tutorial, and I've taken innumerable tea and nacho Dorito breaks (I don't have biscuits at the moment) while my brain tries to ooze out my nose.

I've also started converting Justice for All into a Scrivener version as practice (the tutorial practice file was boring).

Why not convert Dangling Justice, my current WIP, you ask? Multiple reasons, not the least of which is I'm a dumbass. I have to start with the hardest thing first, remember? I'm the idiot who would make a queen-sized quilt for my first project instead of the placemat. And let's be fair. Justice For All is the queen-sized quilt of my literary career.

I had forgotten 1) just how much I've already written on that story, and 2) just how massive it may end up being. I mean, I seem to have about 350 pages already, and I don't know that I'm half done. No wonder I gave up.

By the end of the week, I should not only know the basics of Scrivener, I should have Justice For All ready for later. 'Cause I'm still going to finish Dangling Justice first.

I wanted to include a link to Scrivener, but the page isn't loading. I guess you'll have to look up Literature and Lattes on your own.

Happy Tuesday, dear readers. May your neural pathway forging be pleasant. 

Long Term Goals

Preparing tax paperwork is not my favorite activity. I keep excellent records, and I am generally able to put hands on anything I need, but anytime I analyze my money, I get...a little weird.

Taxes are a forced annual review of my financial life. "Where your treasure is, there is your heart." I wish this review put me in a better mood, but I have nature and nurture working against me in the financial realm. Nothing could foul my dad's mood like an evening balancing the checkbook. Shopping is mom's usual method for ditching the blues. Not the best template.

So when I see in black and red that my writing expenses outweigh my writing income for 2013, I must allow that, according to Dave Ramsey, writing remains my hobby, not my business. I could be upset by this, but I am not, for several reasons.


1. Writing is not my day job. 
Statistically, it takes at least two years to turn a profit on a new business, and that's when you go all out, whole hog, throw yourself into making money mode. I haven't, because I don't need to. I have a day job. I write because I want to (at least, I think I do). Any income at this point is icing.

2. Time is part of the plan.
I need writing to keep my brain active and supplement my income years from now (cause my day job does that at the moment). My current writing goal is to build inventory, one quality book at a time, so that I may reap a harvest later. This is a marathon, not a sprint. Turtles don't sprint.

3. I must have fun.
God meant for man to work, even in Eden. That tells me God expects us to enjoy what we do. I used to enjoy writing, and I have varying degrees of faith that I will enjoy it again. Doing something I enjoy and getting paid anything for it is gravy on the icing.

Finally, most of last year's expenses were Realm Makers' related, and something of an anomaly for my writing education budget. Take that out of the equation, and I made a profit on writing last year. 

I've put the checkbook away for the moment (until April 15, anyway), so my general mood is improved. My writing mood is even keel. Slow and steady wins this race. I've got the slow. I'm looking for the steady.

Happy Hump Day, dear readers. Enjoy whatever weather you're facing today. It will change in a few hours anyway.

Depth

What do I mean by "depth?"

Allow me to date myself. Remember that scene in Wayne's World 2 when Wayne needs directions and asks for a better actor to deliver them? No? Here's a refresher:

Wayne's World 2

Not every character in a book needs to be Charleton Heston, but if a character is important enough to have lines, I kinda want to know they existed before those lines were delivered. I'd also like to know they'll go on existing after they exit stage left.

I recently saw a high school performance of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, a Shakespearean wannabe about two minor characters in Hamlet and their existential wrestling while off-stage waiting to deliver lines. It's billed as a comedy, but, you'll forgive me, no play where the main characters dies is a comedy. At best, it's a dark comedy, but I digress. The play highlights that these two characters exist only to serve Hamlet. They have no other purpose or life outside of that reality.

One of the things I love about Anne McCaffrey's stories is the interconnectedness. Minor characters in one book become main characters in another, and have cameos or off-hand mentions in yet other books. People know each other. She wrote fanfic for her own worlds. Everybody could be somebody in an Anne McCaffrey universe, and you never knew who would get the spotlight next.

When I read a fantasy novel, I expect every character to have a story and a reason for existing other than just moving the plot forward. I don't expect to read everybody's story in the same book. Most times that back story can't be part of the main plot. But...I'm OK with glimpses. A mention of a former relationship. A token with obvious emotional value. A scar indicating an interesting tale if only you had a chance to stop and hear it. 

A fantasy novel walks a fine line. The author must not only make you care about the main characters, but must introduce you to a brand new world without confusing or overloading the reader with history, description or back story. It can be done. McCaffrey did it. Robert Jordan did it. George MacDonald did it in short stories, for goodness' sake. 

Advice for today's author seems to include streamlining. Paring down your wordcount. Writing to a shorter attention span. Not bad advice, but I fear we go too far in paring out any word that doesn't "advance" the plot. Some words advance the reality of the world in which the plot happens. I find those words valuable. 

Happy Thursday, dear readers. "If you gotta spew, spew into this." 

Oops. Wrong movie.