At Long Last...

It's certainly been a minute since I last posted over here. This has been a year of stress, disorganization and trying too hard to keep working. 

But, maybe, things are starting to level out a bit now. 

I spent most of July finishing up a new novel for Falstaff Books. This one is a sequel to the SF Western novella "Brass Stars", and is the first of two books I will be writing for Falstaff this year. The release date for "A Fistful of Dust" hasn't been finalized yet (I just turned the manuscript in) but we suspect it will be sometime in the Spring of 2019. As usual, I will post more about that when we get closer to the release. 

I'm also working on a couple of novellas, pondering the revisions for the Cozy Mystery/Fantasy novel, and working on finishing the Southern Gothic Magic Girl novel. In other words, still writing all the things even if progress this year has been somewhat slower than in previous years. 

Also, if folks are interested in buying an autographed copy of "Touch: A Trilogy" you can check out my Gumroad page. 

Once More Around the Sun: The End of the Year Wrap, Round Up and General Review of Things

This has been a year of even less blogging than usual. Mostly because I've just been busybusybusy and at the end of the day my social media stuff comes second to the other creative work. But, as we head into and through the winter holidays and the last couple weeks of the year, I thought I would go back over the highlights of the year.

In January I finished up a third round of revisions on the Epic Not Fantasy and it has been out in my agent's capable hands since then, looking for a home. January also saw the release for "Of Shade and Soul", the second book in Touch: A Trilogy.

In February I wrote the first draft of a project that is Jane Austen meets the Greek Gods for a retelling of the Hades and Persephone myth. Because of other work under contract that one got shelved after the first draft, but I'm hoping to pick it back up in the new year and get it ready for publication.

In March and April I wrote "Of Flesh and Bone", the final book in Touch: A Trilogy, and co-wrote a brand new novella for inclusion in the forthcoming Monster Society collection. (Currently projected for release in 2018.)

In May I wrote Mother's Last Child, and polished up the first draft of Jacquelyn and the Sparkly Emo Vampire Goat - both of which were released as ebooks later in the summer.

In July, Falstaff Books released "Of Flesh and Bone," and in August the omnibus edition of the trilogy came out in print and ebook.

In August I also started a Patreon which revolves around my Steampunk novel, The Gear'd Heart, and provides the opportunity to subscribe for $1 a month and read as new chapters are released every week.

I also started a YA novel in September and the first draft is nearing completion. It's a Southern Gothic, magic girl, fantasy that's kind of Buffy the Vampire Slayer meets Gilmore Girls in rural Georgia. It's fantastic and I love it, but it's also been one of the harder projects I've written.

And, finally, in November I took a break from the YA novel and wrote the first draft of a Cozy Mystery/Fantasy mash-up that is loads of fun and also weird and full of feels. (Because you know how I love weird and full of feels.)

I will be updating some things here on the blog over the next few weeks with better links for those looking to find any of these projects I've been talking about. And, you may have noticed, I've added a couple of buttons to the top right of the page for those who just want to drop a few dollars into the proverbial tip jar. (One is PayPal.me, the other is Ko-Fi. Money distributed through either helps me pay bills and spend time writing instead of doing something else to make ends meet.)

This has been a long year, full of work, and some disappointment, but I am looking forward to 2018 and the projects I'm hoping to bring to you over the next several months.

Thank you to all the folks who have bought my books or support me on Patreon. Y'all mean a lot to me.

See you in the new year!

Resistance (Update 11.14.16)

Things have been quiet on the blog as I have spent the last several months working on finishing up two different projects.

The most recent was the full draft for "Of Shade and Soul" the forthcoming sequel to "Of Lips and Tongue". We don't have an official release date yet, but we're aiming for early January. (Assuming my health cooperates. The carpal tunnel issues I've been struggling with are slowly improving, but I am not back to where I was earlier in the year. And, as with most stress injuries, rest is the best cure when it starts to flare up.)

So, look for updates on the release date, plus a cover reveal coming in December.

I've also finished up a second draft of "Survivor" - the epic post-apocalyptic SF book I've been working on since the spring. I finished the first draft mid-summer, but after taking a step back and talking to my agent, I realized I was cutting the story short. So, I did another pass to flesh out some of the areas I had glossed over in the madness that is a first draft and in the process added another 46k words to the manuscript.

*insert desperate laughter here*

The latest revision pass is now tightening up the action in the last third of the book in prep to put it out on sub. But, with current events in the US the past couple of weeks, I was reminded of this sequence from an earlier section of the book. It has been on my mind a lot so I thought I would share it with y'all.

---------------------------------------------------------


Izzy checked the compass heading, fluttered the pedals underfoot to adjust course. "We are doing the right thing, aren't we, Reese?"

"Pursuing the talisman?"

"Protecting humanity." Her cheeks flushed, guilty.

"Ah." He swung his legs over the edge of the hatchway and looked down at her. "Are you tired, Isabenne?"

"Yes." She frowned. "But that's not... none of this is new, is it? The war. The politics. You've seen it all before."

He rubbed his head, thoughtful. "There is nothing new under the sun. But it is not continually worse. Not unless we cease to try."

"Is that we're doing? Trying to hold back the centuries of all the worst of humanity in the hope of a few more years that are good?"

"Perhaps."

She could hear the concern in his voice, but refused to look up at him. "Perhaps. Then we are believers after all. Fighting for something that history says we will never reach."

"And what is that, Isabenne?"

"Peace." Her voice cracked and she glared out into the darkness, blinking away tears.

Reese was silent for a while. "Perhaps we are not meant to fight for it."

That made her look up at him, startled. "You think we should surrender?"

He shrugged. "No. I think..." He shook his head. "Not all resistance is war. Maybe we are meant to save humanity some other way."

"Some other way."

He spread his hands. "We are destined to live. If we remember that..." He fell silent again.

She licked her lips. "Maybe." She locked the controls and let her feet swing free. "You should rest. We don't know what tomorrow brings."

Reese sighed. "Aye, captain." He drew his feet up, settling back against the wall of the corridor.

Izzy took a few deep breaths, forcing herself to relax. We are destined to live. She stared out toward the stars twinkling on the horizon. That might be worth fighting for.

Angst on Toast (AKA 2015 in Review)

At the beginning of 2015 I set myself a single writing goal: Write a Better Book.


The year started off pretty well. I was working on the Southern Gothic/Horror project and cranked out a solid novella in a couple of months. It was weird and a little different from what I'd written before. And it felt... better. I read the prologue and the opening chapter at one of the local conventions and got a very enthusiastic response. It felt strong. It had touched on better narrative skills than some of my other projects.


But I wasn't sure about trying to sell a novella. A Horror novella, no less. I thought perhaps I could take the total story arc (which was conceived as three novellas) and turn them into a novel. So I started working on the second one in April.


Thus began the Great Flailing of 2015. I wrote the first chapter, then set it aside because something wasn't working. I picked up the opening of an unfinished high fantasy/steampunk/mythology redux and hammered out another novella. But it didn't feel right either.


I wrote an outline that heightened the conflict and stakes, but also meant expanding the novella into a novel. That stalled so I set it aside.


I had written the first dozen pages or so of an Original Graphic Novel (OGN) script in May. I picked it back up and wrote the rest in about two weeks. It was good. It was strong. I was excited because I was back on track.


I tackled the Southern Gothic project again. And stalled. Maybe it needed to percolate a little more.

I started working on another older project - the Epic Not Fantasy. Wrote an outline. It seemed a little long for a novella, but that was okay - this one I could handle being a little longer. Revised the opening, making adjustments for new plotlines. Picked up a new thread in the story and added 20k I hadn't even planned on. Still okay because it made it a better book.


I was busy, but still making progress. I loved my characters. I loved their flaws. I loved the things they were trying to do. And then I got to the middle of September and something in my brain screamed "OMG! This year is almost over and you haven't sold ANYTHING!"


It's an uncomfortable thing talking about the slow road to "overnight success". Because we really want to think that if we take the right steps and achieve certain milestones that it's just a matter of time before you can run around the interwebs yelling "SUCCESS! I've done The Thing!" But then the months tick past and you get a nice rejections that talk about how intricate your world-building is or your delicate way with words or the emotion in the romantic subplot but it's still "just not right for us at this time."

And you've done all the right things. You've written the best book you could. You struggled through the query trenches and landed an amazeballs agent (whom you love for loving your books and wanting them to be better just like you want them to be better). You've written other novels and short stories so that you have new projects to go out on submission if the first one doesn't strike the right nerve with the editors.

All the right things and still the months go by and that feeling you've always had, that maybe you aren't as good as you thought, that maybe you're really one of the tone deaf contestants on American Idol singing your heart out and being told there's just no hope that this thing you love will ever be a career.

I wallowed for a bit. Not deliberately. That's just how it is when the depression kicks in. I would try to write and I couldn't muster the energy to do more than open my documents and stare at the words I'd written weeks before. And the end of the year got even closer and the panic got bigger.

I talked to Agent Amazeballs and we agreed that maybe the Southern Gothic novella needed to remain a novella series instead of trying to remold it into a novel. And I should take the lead on subbing it. So it went out.

This was a decision that cut both ways. Putting it out there made me feel active again instead of stalled. But it also brought the total number of projects out on submission up to four. Not including a few short stories I still had in circulation.

I took another week or two to try and get my practical goals straightened out. I found that even though I wasn't ready to write the next Southern Gothic novella, I did (finally) know what I wanted to do with it. I also figured out how to rework the high fantasy/steampunk/mythology redux novella so that it would be longer, stronger, but not a full on novel.

I started writing on the Epic Not Fantasy again after almost six weeks of not touching it. I was scared it wouldn't work, but it all came back. Like I'd just set down the pen (metaphorical pen) for a few minutes and then come back to it. And this time I told myself that even though I wanted to finish it by the end of the year, I would just work on it until it was done. Even if that wasn't by the end of December.

November was NaNoWriMo. I didn't win. I wrote about 20k words. I brainstormed my simple plot for the Epic Not Fantasy into something spectacular. And epic. It's a really wonderful book.

It's not done yet. And thus we return to the point of this review of my year as a writer.

Sometimes things don't go like you plan. One thing I kept struggling with was the feeling that I hadn't accomplished anything this year. It wasn't true, but I was letting the things that weren't working like I'd planned obscure the things I had done.

I'd lost sight of the fact that sometimes success is not giving up. Sometimes progress means not taking a step back, even if you can't take a step forward that day. Or the next.

The end of the year is only days away and I have worked on my singular goal of writing a better book. I haven't met all my individual project goals, but I haven't given up.

And that's success.
  

When Am I Done? (Update 6.26.15)

This weekend I'm attending a little regional SF/F convention (LibertyCon). As a part of my activities for the weekend, I'm doing a reading on Friday afternoon.


I've only done a couple of readings before, but, despite the nerves about actually reading my stuff out loud in front of strangers, I tend to enjoy them. I like sharing my work with folks (even if I feel like I'm about to swallow my tongue the entire time). However, picking something to read is always a challenge.


Do I select something short so folks can hear it beginning to end? Something already published? Something forthcoming? Part of one of the (as yet) unpublished novels? There are pros and cons with every choice, but this time I settled on reading the first section of a novelette I am putting out as an eBook reprint in another couple of weeks.


Legacy was originally published last fall in Beast Within 4: Gears & Growls, edited by Jennifer Brozek. It's a great little steampunk story about a (fictional) queen of England, the fictionally portrayed but absolutely real life Marie Laveau, and my totally fictional and non-queen protagonist, Willa Arch, who is just trying to survive to see another day. And there are skin-changers (shapeshifters), voodoo zombies, and a large helping of asskicking.


Due to the length constraints of the original publication there were a few narrative beats I had taken out. Since I'm republishing this myself in digital format and no one is likely to say "I would really have liked to read this story but 7k words instead of 5k is just too much" I figured I could add back in some of the partial scenes I had left out.


So far those little revisions are going well, but I find myself walking a fine line between writing the story as I had originally seen it (before I realized it wouldn't all fit under 6k words) and just writing the whole thing from scratch at twice the length. Because it would be easy to do that. Add in more subplots, more back story, put a little more distance between the key plot points. These are all things I tend to do when I revise. It's great when the thing I'm writing is a novel. Not so great when I'm trying to keep it within novelette range.


But I'm also looking at the original story and part of me is a little sad that I was willing to let it go without the additional scenes. The story is stronger now. Why did I think it was so good before?


And here's the thing. The first version is good. It's short and tight and tense. It lacks a little of the finesse the newer version is achieving, but it is still a good story. I'm proud of it and pleased that it was published. Does that mean I can't make it a little better? Of course not. It's been two years since I wrote the first version of Legacy and I've developed a lot as a writer since then. My craft, I like to think, is finer than it was then. It is only natural that I would see areas that could be improved.


Will I continue to publish longer, more polished, more detailed versions after this? Hell, no. Because I know what my original vision was. I also know that at the time, for various reasons, I was not able to achieve all of it. Now I am. And once I'm satisfied with the new version, that will be it.


Writers always lament never being done with a novel or short story. "There's always something left to change." And yes, as a new writer, it often feels that way. As I've grown more confident in my literary abilities, I find myself less dissatisfied with things I wrote six months ago. Less likely to look at something I've had published and think "Damn, I wish I'd changed that."


Don't get me wrong - you can always improve on craft. I will probably never grow out of finding sentences I think are clunky or poor word choices. But I have reached a point where I feel I can trust myself to say "Yes. This is done." And that is a good place to be, because it keeps me moving forward - finding new stories and writing those as best I can.

Forthcoming! (Update 6.22.15)

This weekend I will be at LibertyCon. If you will be too, you can check my schedule here.

I also have two new novelettes coming out in July. In an effort to make my stories easier to find and obtain I am publishing reprints of my backlist and releasing a few brand spanking new things this year.

First up is Legacy. A steampunk tale set in Savannah and Lake Ponchartrain, this was originally published in Beast Within 4: Gears & Growls (Graveside Tales, Oct. 2014). It's a lovely, dark action adventure story with a dark underbelly. And shapeshifters.

Coming July 14, 2015! 

Next up is Dust. This is a completely original (i.e. never before published) urban fantasy with a heavy noir twist. 

Coming July 28, 2015!

In writing news, I finished an OGN (Original Graphic Novel) script a few weeks ago. The Southern Gothic is still chugging darkly along. The end of the summer tends to be a little slow in publishing land so I'm focusing on finishing up a few in-progress projects in prep for the fall. 

More to come soon!

 

Beginnings and Growth (Update 3.20.15)

While digging through stuff post-move, I ran across my first "novel". It clocked in at a stunning 164 pages and I wrote it when I was in high school. It was fun - a little space opera involving interplanetary intrigue - and also spectacularly awful.


Just for fun, here's the first page. (I don't think I ever titled this anything other than Shasta. Also, note the rip of the planetary name? I was a big Star Wars fan and had a crush on Han Solo and thought it would be totally cool to borrow Corillia (Corellia) for my book too.)

It was the year 6004. One the planet Corillia a new ruler had just come to power. This new ruler was Shasta Coral. She was the only descendant of the late Daren Coral. Kings, queens, princes and lords from the various surrounding planets were coming to pay their respects to the new ruler of Corillia. Many of them had a shock when they first saw Shasta. They had pictured her as being short and gracefully plump, with blue eyes and blonde hair, rosy cheeks, and a dimple in her chin when she smiled. Therefore it was quite startling to find that Shasta Coral was tall and slender, with black hair and green eyes, dark skin, and she had no dimple in her chin because she rarely smiled. 

Many of the visiting rulers were quite shocked about this, but there was a small group that was quite pleased. They could tell at a glance that this princess would make an excellent ruler. She was the type to stand up against anything. 

One man who was very please was a lord by the name of Van der Brecken. Hans Van der Brecken. He was a member of the Corillian Council. He was an extremely tall man. He had blonde hair and blue eyes, and he had a thick sort of accent. He waited until Princess Shasta was alone and then he went over to talk to her. 

So, first of all. I'm a little surprised I still have a copy of this manuscript because I really should have burned it years ago. But it's kind of amusing (in a toe curling way) to see where my roots in novel-writing lie. But there has also been something about the very basic structure of this story that I have always loved.

In 2008 (roughly 16 years after I wrote that first dreadful version) I wrote the following as a test prior to NaNoWriMo. (Although I have written as a hobby for most of my life, in 2008 I was finally starting to think about what I needed to do in order to write as a career. NaNoWriMo seemed like the perfect challenge to test the waters, so to speak. But I wasn't sure I would be able to write the required number of daily words so I sat down and rattled off the opening scene of the now-evolved space opera plot as a test.)

This version also has problems. Number one is, the damn thing is unfinished. And those apostrophes. And the formal tone. But there's a lot more complexity to the notes I made on this version and there is a lot of development in the voice and craft (despite the aforementioned what-the-fuckery with names and formality).

So here's the first page or so of the version from 2008.

Incense filled the air, the thick, sweet ceremonial smell of death.

Na'Maru stood for a minute outside the great gates. Four years since she had stood here last and it seemed that nothing had changed. But the banners on the wall were not red in celebration of birth, nor black in the celebration of victory, nor green to welcome a new season but white, the color of mourning. In the distance bells tolled ceaselessly in lament. Not until the body of the king was laid to rest would they fall to silence again.

“My lady?” Gerard asked, a note of concern in his voice.

“It is nothing.” She straightened her shoulders. “Let us go in.”

Arrival through the gates was unnecessary. As the daughter of the heir-first she could have taken a skipper right into the estate. But Na'Maru had always enjoyed the walk from the massive gilt doors to the sprawling stone fortress that was the ancestral home of the family Makentyre. In older days many smaller walls had climbed the hill, protecting the king from encroaching threats.

Those walls were long since gone, their usefulness faded as were the stories of battle and bloodshed. The road had been widened and trees allowed to grow as they would. What had been a defensive feature was now little more than a walking park.

Gerard shook his head in disgust. “They grow lazy here in the central worlds.”

Na'Maru nodded but said nothing. They neared the top of the hill and the road became steps, broad and shallow. As they rose above the tree tops the city became visible, a dark and uneven mass that flattened out near the star-towers and climbed erratically into the mountains to the west.

Na'maru's staff-bearer made a chuckling noise that was not a laugh. “They have no fields,” she said.

“No, Anii'a. The fields are very far from here.”

“But if there is an attack how will they eat?”

“With great difficulty,” Gerard said wryly.

Sometimes it's easy to see where we've grown as writers. (At fifteen I could look back at the stories I wrote at the age of ten and see the improvement.) Other times it's not so simple. I compare the books I wrote last year with the one I'm writing now and wonder - am I getting better? Or just different?

The answer is yes. I write nearly every day and with every word I put down, I'm improving and growing and changing as a writer. That change may be so small that when I look at what I wrote today and compare it what I wrote a month ago, I won't see the difference. But I have to trust that in another year or three, I will. (I also have to recognize that people who aren't me may see the difference far more clearly. I do not, personally, see a lot of change between the current WiP and the last one, but my alpha-reader tells me the current one is much stronger. So, I keep writing and trust that I am doing what I'm supposed to.)

One of these days I'm going to tackle this (still unnamed) space opera and actually write a finished and not-full-of-suckage draft. One of these days.

In the meantime, it's one word at a time.

Persistence (Update 1.31.15)

This week I finished another round of revisions on the newest "little novella that wouldn't quit" and polished the synopses for a potential pitch from "kind of okay" to "OMG! EPIC!". (At least that's how it felt this morning when I finished three cups of coffee and the last half of the synopsis for book three.)


With this project, I succeeded, once again, in setting deadlines I didn't meet and turning a fairly simple plot idea into a complex and emotional little book that makes me *SQUEEE* a little when I read through it. Really, you'd think I'd start to expect this by now, but it still startles me. Probably some phase in the "growing as a writer" process; I continually anticipate I'm writing average genre work and then manage to surprise myself. (I'm less surprised when I remember when I wrote my first (and absolutely average) genre novella 21 years ago when I was fifteen. Given a few starts and stops due to college and work, I haven't stopped working at it since. So, maybe it's about time I start showing some sign of being, you know, good at what I'm doing.)


This week also marked a rather horrible round of self-doubt. The specific details don't really matter. Suffice to say it was because writer reasons*. And because this project has taken significantly more rounds of revision than the last. (The Summer Project aka The Spider Thief Novel, consisted of one rough draft and one polishing round to fill in a few blank spots. And writing the synopses. Then it was done. This one is currently on draft number five. Four of which have been written since November. But still. Five! Why isn't this easier, right?)

The point being, it's easy to get discouraged and forget that every project is different. Easy to forget that this writing thing really is hard. No matter how fun it may seem. Even if you do get to drink whole pots of coffee and sit around in yoga pants all day except for when you have to put on real clothes so you can get more coffee from that fancy grocery store. Easy to forget that with any creative endeavor there is some grain of I-do-this-because-I-love-it buried deep under all the other reasons and motivators.

Approaching writing like work has been a large part of why I've accomplished as much as I have. It's enabled me to remove my "self" from the stories I write. Which in turn has made me more honest in how I write because I don't link dislike or judgement of the work to dislike or judgement of me. It's also enabled me to learn how to set goals and work through rough spots even if I'm not feeling the vodka-addled pinch of my muse**. Because part of this work IS work and the art can always come later.

But, when things get rough I persist because I love writing. Even on the days when I really suck at it. Even on the days when I THINK I really suck at it. Even on the days when a rejection rolls in.

I persist because I love it.
And because coffee.
And love. 
*Writer reasons may include, but are not limited to, the following:
The wind was from the East.
I didn't have enough coffee.
I had too much coffee.
Something on TV made me angry.
I read something that was so good, I wanted to burn everything I'd ever written.
I read something so bad, I wanted to write All The Words just to show that fiction is not a waste of time.
Someone who should be supportive said something unsupportive about my work.
The story I was working on did not flow like water and I thought "I must be doing something wrong."
The story I was working on did flow like water and I thought "I must be doing something wrong."
I remembered thinking I was brilliant in college and wondered why I'm not already well-known and successful.
Thought a sentence my cat typed into my laptop with his ass made more sense than the chapter I'd just spent a week on.
Assorted craziness.
Unavailability of chocolate in the house.



** This should not be interpreted to mean that vodka is my muse.
My muse however, tends to sit in the corner chainsmoking and trying to find his way to the bottom of a bottle of vodka while periodically slurring "Just finish the damn book." And then he passes out.

2014: Another Year Gone

This past year I accomplished a number of things. Among them:

I found a fantastic literary agent.
I wrote approximately 280k words on various novels/novellas; including heavy revisions to The Steampunk Novel, finishing/revising The Spider Thief and The Assassin King, and finishing/revising The Super-Secret Project. (The rest of the words written were on Old Guard - a space opera, and Thingbreaker - a magicpunk novel. But neither of them have reached a "finished" state yet.)
I attended my first ever convention and met a bunch of really awesome folks.


Acquiring an agent and writing/finishing a new novel were both big milestones for me.
The first is a big step toward finding a publisher for my novels (in all their genre-rich glory) and means I can spend more time writing. (Compared to 2013 which was a pretty slow year for me, I was super-productive. Mostly because I was not wading through the query trenches and could actually spend my time putting words on the page rather than researching potential agents.)
The second was proof that I could move on to the next thing after having spent a lot of time in the previous years working through all the flailing mess that is writing a first novel. (To be fair, I wrote some other stuff during that time too, including the first steaming pile that is now the in-progress draft of Thingbreaker.)


A few things I didn't do this year:
Write/sell more short stories.
Finish a third novel this fall. (That was what I meant to do with Old Guard, but a sudden move + family drama + H1N1 = only part of that book got written.)
Sell one of the novels.


The latter is something I've been wrestling with the past few weeks. The holidays are a difficult time for me anyway and it was a perfect opportunity for doubt to sneak in and tell me I'm not good enough to do this writing thing on a permanent basis. If I were, the agent would have had no trouble finding a home for my novels. If I were, wouldn't I be making more money at it?


And, here's the thing, I would really like to already have book contracts and a nice advance on any of the things I wrote this year. But I have to remember that the life of an author is a marathon, not a sprint. Not only does the business move slowly, but it's a long-distance proposition. One book doesn't make a career, even if it should happen to sell immediately.


Right now I am building a body of work. Unpublished? Yes. But that can (and will) change at any time.
In the meantime, I am writing - which is something I love - and telling stories that scare me in the best possible way. It's not time to give up, it's time to push forward.


So here's to the New Year and the opportunity every day brings.

Ups and Downs (Update 11.5.14)

It's November and that means that the NaNoWriMo hashtag is trending on Twitter and writers of every stripe are hunkered down working on banging out a minimum of 1667 words a day.

Of course, for some November is an awkward month to try and hit 50k in 30 days. The end of the month has the opening of the holiday season. For folks in school there are exams and the impending end of the year crush of papers and projects. But, many of us take up the challenge even knowing that we won't likely make the goal because life. 

I first participated in the National Novel Writing Month in 2008. It was a spur of the moment thing. Although I had heard of NaNo before, I had always missed it by a few weeks (or been months too early). As it was, I thought I had missed it again and was delighted to realize it was NOT in October but November. I had a rough plot and no idea how to write something that long, but I plunged in anyway and produced the really awful first draft of what would eventually take shape as the Steampunk Novel and I wrote more than 50k words in the space of a month. It was a huge achievement.

The following year I did it again. (That year produced the really awful first draft of what is slowly taking shape as the Magicpunk Novel.) And I haven't repeated it since. 

The first year I failed to meet the NaNo goal (2010) I was pretty bummed. I couldn't figure out what had gone wrong. Had I lost my mojo? Maybe I was running out of good ideas. Maybe I had plateaued. Or I was only destined to write two books ever. (And lousy ones at that.) 

After I wallowed for a bit, I had a revelation. Nothing had gone wrong. I hadn't lost my motivation or my mojo or run out of ideas. It was just a different year and different circumstances and although I had written a lot, I hadn't written as much as the previous years because life. 

I have been thinking about that again these past few weeks. I had a soft deadline to turn in a project mid-October. I got very close and then ran out of steam. 

Of course, I also went through a major move with my family that consumed more time and energy than I thought I had to spend. I also turned in major revisions on a novel in January. And wrote a different novel and revised it over the spring and summer. Then started the SuperSecret novella in September. 

I was being productive and writing even with a very tight schedule and plenty of life difficulties in the mix. (Seven weeks without running water, four rounds of bronchitis in six months, and multiple court dates being just a small part of the life stress I've faced this year.) Failing to meet a self-imposed deadline was disappointing, but it didn't signal Failure. It was life. 

So, as I tackle another November and another novel project I can only remind myself that everyone has ups and downs. And there are times when you have to make that deadline (and I've done that a few times too), but you cannot blame yourself for all the things that happen because life. You can only buckle down and try. 

Some days this just means turning on the computer and hammering out a single line between eating dinner and putting the six year old to bed. Some days this means ignoring the urge to watch crappy TV and instead beat out a few chapters on that project you aren't certain is any good at all. 

But whether life is grabbing you by the short and curlies or everything is coming up roses, you can only buckle down and try. And, at the end of most days, you will have words. Some better than others, but the bad ones can always be fixed. 

As long as you try.

Publication and Wordage (Update 10.31.14)

First, a little publication news. I have a story available on QuarterReads. It's neat little site that has a collection of short fiction, each story is available to read for the low price of twenty-five cents. Mine can be found here: Call-Center


You can expect some of my other short stuff to be available there before too long. Once I get a chance to submit it and everything. 

Also, as I announced last week, Beast Within 4: Gears and Growls is available today! It contains my short story "Legacy" as part of an anthology of stories examining shapeshifters in a steampunk world, edited by Jennifer Brozek. You can purchase a copy here: Beast Within 4: Gears and Growls

This is one of my first stories actually published in print so I'm even more excited than usual about it's release. (And it's a really cool story. And I got to share the ToC with Ken Liu and Folly Blaine.) 

In writing news, I am still working to finish up the SuperSecretProject before NaNoWriMo begins. (Not that it's going to happen, but you know, words is words.) I am very close to the end and it's killer. And disturbing. I love this little book so much it's hard not to talk about it in more detail, but I can't because reasons. 

Once the SuperSecretProject is done (by which I mean the first draft is safely in the hands of The Agent for further review), I will be starting on a new project for the duration of the year. The goal is to knock out a bunch of it during the National Novel Writing Month. Not so much because I have to participate in NaNo, but it is a good excuse to stay on target with the daily wordcount. 

The new project is a Space Opera with a complex set of character that are simply terrifying me because I am very much afraid I will screw them up. But, my best stories tend to be those I fear I won't do justice to. So, come tomorrow, I will be running full tilt into the writing breach to try and finish my third project this year. Or, at least, get a good start on it before January. 

Happy Halloween!

Busy (10.22.14)

There's been a long silence here. Between this time last month and now, there's been a lot of real life chaos that has made updating the blog a minor priority.

Good news: Things are finally settling down somewhat. 
And, I'm nearly finished with the Super-Secret Project I've been working on. This means I'll have finished two new books this year and I'm set to start a third in November. (Space Opera of appropriately epic proportions and emotional complexity that I'm still trying to wrap my head around.)

AND, The Beast Within 4: Gears and Growls is scheduled to come out on October 31st. Just in time for Halloween. And check out this amazing cover! 

This anthology not only contains stories by Ken Liu and Folly Blaine, but also my own - Legacy. It's a dark little thing full of weird tech, skin-changers and voodoo. I'm so excited it's finally going to be available; links to buy will go up once they're live. 

In the meantime, more words are on the horizon. As always.

Nerves (9.21.14)

I have an old neck injury that sometimes causes problems. What with RL stress this year, it's been flaring up with a vengeance. The past few weeks I've had pinched-nerve headaches every day. (Not always all day, but for several hours out of every day and some days the pain never stopped.) This morning it got really bad - nausea, tingling on the left side of my face, sparkles in my vision - it wasn't fun. Fortunately, because I know more or less where the problem is, I was able to do some careful stretching and take some aspirin (because I have heavier stuff, but it knocks me on my ass) and eventually get to a point where I could move around without feeling like I would puke all over everything.

Now, feeling a little wobbly and exhausted, I'm trying to catch up on All The Things.

This week I've been working on a super-secret project. AKA: Something written under a different pen name. There are reasons. The primary one being a higher percentage of scenes in which the characters get naked than in what I've written before.

I don't censor myself much so the stories I write which have sex (or violence or swearing or trolls or housecats, etc) can be no-holds barred. This doesn't mean that every novel I write will have rampant sex (or violence or swearing or trolls or housecats, etc). I write what's necessary for the story. Sometimes that's a character winding up partially paralyzed. Sometimes it's a pair of characters getting naked repeatedly.

Anyway. I got a fair chunk written on this super-secret thing and I really like it. It's not likely to be a novel, but should be a solid little novella by the time I get the last 5-6 scenes written.

But, the really interesting thing, is finding that disassociating myself from the content a little does seem to let my imagination run a little further. I am not second-guessing the plot nearly as much as usual. Maybe it's just a better plot. (It involves zombies. Out west. I doubt it's a better plot, but you never know.) I suspect, that knowing that my "real name" won't be on the cover has let me write with less criticism.

And that's interesting. Because, like I said before, I don't censor much. I do maintain a general awareness of the marketability of a story. When in doubt I might ask for second opinions on whether it's going too far. (When I was writing "Legacy" for the upcoming The Beast Within 4: Gears and Growls I emailed the editor to say "Hey. I think one of my characters is going to eat a piece of one of the other characters. Is that going to be too much?") But I try not to cut my creativity off at the knees by deciding ahead of time that I shouldn't write something.

I mean, within reason. A splatter-punk book featuring all the people in my life I feel have done wrong by me is a bad idea.

And it's safe to say I've written a few bad stories. Ideas that just didn't work on the page or wound up being some sort of message-driven wankery. (You know we all get that way sometimes, but those stories are best shelved, trunked or burned with fire.) But I try really hard to put everything down on the paper and then decide where the bones of a story lie and what's just fat.

But I still worry about certain things. I hesitate to confirm choices I know are right for the character. (Does anyone really need to know this character is gay? Is this character really that desperate?) I gloss over flaws or emotionally wrenching scenes because deep down I worry that it will be too much. And also because I worry that my word skillz (yes, with a zee) are just not up to the task.

Removing myself a step from the equation seems to have alleviated some of that fear. It could be temporary. Or a side-effect of the stress. Or maybe it's just the beginning of a growth spurt wherein I realize that I'm not writing for people who will judge me for what I choose to put down on the page, but for those who will appreciate the grit that comes with the territory of telling a story that feels real. And more naked scenes.  

Newly Available! (9.15.14)

Things have been busy around here. I've been working on two different projects for the other pen name and gearing up to start releasing my previously published work in ebook format.


The Collections Agent is available now from Kobo. (You can also purchase it from Inktera, iBooks or Nook.com. Or read it via Scribd.) If you like it (or if you hate it) you can always rate it or leave a review over at Goodreads.

In the Cool of the Day will be available tomorrow from Kobo. (It will also be available from Inktera, iBooks or Nook.com, and Scribd, once the files are approved.) 

You can look for individual editions of Insomnia and Happy After All to be released in a month or so. I am planning a single volume collection (that would also include things too short to make good individual ebooks and possibly a few unpublished things), but I have no specific timeline on that release.

In the meantime, I'm writing writing writing in between being busybusybusy. As usual.

Happy Monday! 

Stories (Writing Update 8.14.14)

So, there is always a lot of horrible news to be found in the world on any given day, but sometimes it feels like there is an extra helping of suckage in very short order. It is on those days that I feel most helpless and worthless. It is on those days the I wonder at the value of telling stories.


But today, while feeling heartsick about the recent loss of people who inspired others (both famous and unknown) and the horrible and senseless violence being perpetrated in my own country and in others, I remembered this quote from G.K. Chesterton: Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.

Yesterday I started to work on the first draft of a novel I've been mulling over for a couple of years. It has a 16 year old protagonist, is set in a vaguely contemporary world, and (at least for now) lacks the normal flair for romance that I normally have. For those, and many other reasons, I'm not certain I will be able to produce anything worthwhile with this book. (It has a hell-gate complete with motorcycle gang-like semi-possessed, virgin sacrificing villains. And a grandmother who turned a young girl into a cat in a fit of senility and now is trapped in ghost-pig form until her granddaughter can find the girl and reverse the spell. And white knights, a protagonist obsessed with the study of serial killers and the folks who protect the rest of humanity from them, and a house that is semi-sentient.) 

But, already, I see ideas about the need to use power once it's discovered, and the politics of family and society, and fighting for what is right and not just what is comfortable and convenient. And I remember what Chesterton said and I think that there must be value in reminding the world, in reminding myself that dragons can be killed. 

The world and life are difficult and dark. Some days more than others. But we can (and should) still speak out, stand up, and, sometimes even, fight those things that are dark and horrible and difficult. 

So today I'm writing a story about a dragon slayer who worries she might be as bad as the monster she's trying to end and reminding myself that it is not who or what we are that matters. It is what we do. 

Drive (Writing Update 8.5.14)

Back in February (having just finished up the last few tweaks on The Steampunk Novel), I picked up the first thousand words or so of a short story I'd started the year before. It was the sequel to a story that was scheduled to come out from Crowded Magazine in May, and I figured it was as good a time as any to work on the next part of the adventure.


My real life was hectic. I mean, more so than usual. Mid-February our water got shut off and stayed off for seven weeks. Even once the water was back on there were court dates, legal papers to write, and all of the normal everyday real life stuff - housework, grocery shopping, getting my son to and from school, cooking, laundry, etc. But I kept plugging away on this story.

Only it was turning out not so short.
It climbed past 15k.
I started thinking of it as a novella.
And still it grew. And grew.


Finally, in mid-June, I reached "The End" and realized I had a 65k novel on my hands. It was a lovely little book with magic and spiders and a cross-world adventure and assassins and romance. And I was scared stiff about what the agent would think of it. Although there were some slight thematic similarities to The Steampunk Novel, it had a much different feel and tone. Less gothic angst, more humor, a few more fights, and lots of spiders. And I always struggle with humor. So I worried, but I sent it off and waited. (Not for long because my agent is awesome.)

Then made some revisions, wrote short outlines for sequels, finished the revisions. (In a lot less time than I originally anticipated.) And now there's more waiting. Again.

And new ideas are chewing on my brain. Because I love writing. I love my craft. But I am not doing this just because I love putting words on paper, but because, deep down, I want to do this for a living. Not the way Patterson does. Or even the way King does. (Although, you know, who doesn't wish fondly for a call saying "We just sold paperback rights for an assload of money.") But in a steady "This is my day job" kind of way.

And that means I don't need (or want) to loll around waiting for good news. Because when that good news comes (and I know that it will) it won't be like winning a billion dollars. At some point, I'll need to make more good news happen. Preferably by way of more book sales. Or, you know, maybe I'll get back into the film making world. (I still write screenplays sometimes, but that realm is even more competitive than selling a novel.)

But the point here is, I wrote one novel this year. Maybe it's time to write another one. 

Setbacks

Writing a book is a challenge and a labor of love. Even for the more practically minded, with an overall goal of making a career of this, not just jotting down words as a hobby, there is a piece of us that goes into every story.

There are few things more satisfying than finding a home for a story. (Except for cake. Cake is always good.) It's confirmation that the work you put into it wasn't a waste. It's affirmation that these characters who speak to you also speak to others. It's validation of your craft, both personally and as a part of the larger world of authors. 


And then, sometimes, after you've put all that time and effort into a book, after you've searched and queried and found a publisher who loves your story as much as you do, sometimes things go wrong.


Yesterday morning I found out that Eggplant Literary Productions is closing due to on-going health concerns and my book (and all the others they've published) are being withdrawn from publication.

Which, quite frankly, sucks.

Eggplant is doing the right thing and returning the rights to all their authors. And I can't blame anyone for recognizing that they can't run a business if they aren't healthy.

But it still sucks. I feel like I'm back at square one, even though I know I'm not.
And in the meantime, there will be cake. Because cake is always good.

Revisions (Writing Update 7.13.14)

Just a quick note today. (And many apologies for the radio silence. We're in the midst of a rapid-and-unexpected move so the peripheral stuff is going to be a little hit or miss for the next few months.)

On Wednesday (July 16th) I have a guest blog over at Enchanted Spark. You may remember Melinda Moore guested over here a couple of months ago and is graciously hosting me as well. You should be sure to check it out - I talk about writing Brass Stars and dealing with hard characters.

It seems that The Beast Within 4: Gears and Growls may be coming out in October. It's been a little delayed, but I think everyone's excited to see it come out. Edited by Jennifer Brozek, this anthology includes my own steampunk-werecreature-Southern-Gothic story - "Legacy". And some other authors who you are more likely to recognize. (Like Ken Liu.)

A few weeks ago I finished up The Spider Thief and The Assassin King. This short novel started out as a short story and rapidly turned into the-project-that-wouldn't-quit. I've had a lovely talk with my agent, scribbled down a page full of notes, and now have a six week deadline to add some more polish to the MS. There is a fair amount of "Yay!" involved here. And also a bit of "OMG!" because... moving. Then again, who needs sleep?

Things I Saw on The Internet This Week (6.6.14)

Some weeks I drift along completely oblivious to the current memes, gossip and trending stories of the interwebs. And other weeks, every time I turn the computer on I see something that is important (in some fashion). Since this has been one of those weeks, and some of what I read will be the subject of forthcoming blog posts, here's a kind of heads about what I saw that intrigued and/or angered me. (And one thing that is just amusing.)


First (and these are not in order of when they happened) Jonah Hill. So, I missed the fact that apparently he got chased around by a paparazzi and then used a homophobic slur. I did see some of the coverage of his apology. Notably this article from The A.V. Club. What's interesting to me about that particular article, and Hill's apologies, is the fact that he admits that there is never a good reason to use that sort of language. There's no "Well, I didn't mean it that way, I was just angry," excuse. Which is a far cry from many apologies that amount to nothing more than "I'm sorry you were offended." It can be hard for anyone to apologize for doing something stupid or mean. But it's even harder when you're in the spotlight to not be defensive about being human. I think Hill handles it quite admirably and does what is so very difficult for any of us by saying "I'm sorry, I was offensive."


Next, a trollish piece of nonsense by Michael Kozlowski about "female authors". Weather wizard (and author) John Scalzi - who is always on the lookout for issues that concern decent human beings - talked about this a bit on Twitter (@scalzi) as did a number of other authors both of the male and female persuasion. I don't have much to add, other than this. If you have been in a marriage, especially one that is a good and strong marriage, you know that it is not a 50/50 split on effort, investment and reward. (In fact, when my husband and I got married we were told not to think in terms of each giving 50% to reach the 100% mark on marriage. The only way for it to work is to constantly strive for 100% individually.) You also know that when you are supporting your partner you don't think about whether or not he/she is bringing in the same amount of money or spending as much time at home or helping the kids with their homework. You just support him/her because you know that at some point the shoe will be on the other foot. Because that's how marriage works.


Also, there is still a lot of discussion about issues relating to violence against women, abuse, bullying and misogyny. Both in general and specifically in relation to the #yesallwomen hashtag. You can (and should) read Carrie Cuinn's harrowing and heartfelt blog post about it. And then read Zaron Burnett III's A Gentleman's Guide to Rape Culture. It is less uncomfortable to read, but equally thought provoking. Especially interesting in that he touches on the idea that rape culture is not just "rape", but also the acceptance of attitudes that allow rape to be a normal part of society.

Back in the realm of "mostly stupid" was this article by Ruth Graham in which she informs adult readers of YA books that they should be embarrassed. I mention it mostly because there is always someone (or a group of someones) who want to make themselves feel better by pointing out that what they read is better than what you read. We've seen this before with genre vs mainstream, genre vs literary, mainstream vs literary, classics vs contemporary, romance vs womens fiction. You name it and someone has probably said something snarky and ridiculous about why X is superior to Y. Good books are good books, folks. It doesn't matter who they are MARKETED to. (And it's important to note that YA is not a genre it's a category and is more about business than content.) So, read what you like, apologize to none.


And last, because some of this week was pretty heavy: A lovely collection of GIFs of cats being silly.