Projects update + vague stress stuff

Worked on Masks today.  I'm delving into the section that needs the most manipulation, so it's going to be scary going.  But fun.  I think there's something compelling about fresh writing.  That raw energy (if carefully harnessed) makes the situations more vibrant, especially if the changes being made aren't a noun here and a verb there, but more in the direction of plumping up the action or depth of emotion.  

It's particularly rewarding to start working on the islands section 'fresh.'  On previous edits I worked from beginning to end fairly non-stop.  So by the time I got to the island, I was already fatigued from the long editing sessions.  I'm not fatigued this time.  

I also sent off a short story to be critiqued by INK.  Depending on what they say, I'll make some changes, polish it up, and probably bounce it off of the Lucky Labs before shipping it out.  It may be one of those stories that either works or doesn't, though.  There are certainly going to be rough spots in the prose and I probably didn't go far enough with the environmental descriptions, and that's fine.  What won't be fine is if the story isn't effective.  It's short and a buttony kind of subject and if I didn't do a good job of addressing it, it may just have to be tossed.  There's no aspect of the story I can 'save' if the heart of it doesn't work.

That's a different kind of story for me.  I'm not sure if it's because I picked a controversial subject or the fact that it's very bare bones--two scenes, short on the word count, and a simple conflict.  I won't go into what I think is its main weak point.  I'll let my readers get back to me on it.  But I'm curious to see if we see the story the same way.

Radcon is coming up.  Are we ready?  I'm not sure I am.  Physically, yeah I am.  I'll have clothes, supplies, and sometime in the next three days I'm going to take the kids to shopping with me for party supplies and groceries to sustain them through the weekend.  Emotionally?  I'm a bit of a mess, and that's not going to go away.  I'm sure I can maintain, but actually enjoy the con?  That'll be a stretch.  I anticipate lots of phone calls home, and reaching out on Skype to my DH so that my family can reassure me that everything is going to be okay.

This is a good time for me to be writing on stuff that has nothing to do with my concerns for the immediate future.  If I could do something about my circumstances besides applying bandaids, I would totally focus on that, but all I can do besides first aid is to worry, and that does absolutely no good.  A little escapism into my writing may be just what I need right now.  Speaking of which, I should get back to that now.  Don't worry!  This too shall pass.  If anything I hope it passes slowly, so I can adapt and adjust and do whatever I can.  When things zip by, well, all you can do is hang on tight.  

Flash Fiction No Go

I got my (kindly) rejection from Flash Fiction Online today.  I guess that means I'm still immaculate!  Gotta look at the upside of these things, especially with two rejects so close together.  And yet I still feel like making headway.  Isn't the definition of insanity to repeat the same actions over and over and expect a different outcome?

In other writing news, I'm getting that next chunk of Masks edited.  I'll probably email it out in the next couple of weeks for critique either at the end of May or into June, depending on when INK thinks it'll be best as far as reading the chunkaroo.  

In other other writing news, I plan on cutting tile soon, the next step in the great office tile-o-thon.  I've got one three-sided cut that I'm dreading, but the rest of the cuts are straightforward singles or doubles, so hopefully it'll come together quickly.  Then my office will be free, free free! of the under construction signs.  Well, except I'm going to reshelve my closet.  That's a big ugh project, but not nearly as involved as the tiling.

Any other submissions in the works out there?  How's the weather?

Laugh at me, mock me, tell me my writing's bad!

Ooo, new game to play—Word to Blog.  I’ll have to learn that one.

Just so all y’all know, I’ve decided to subject myself to a flogging.  I don’t know when the Masks opening will end up on Flogging the Quill, but it will eventually, I hope, unless there’s a chance of getting rejected.  How sucky would that be. 

I’m sorry, your opening is so bad I’m unwilling to comment on it.  At all.  Thanks for sending me your ms portion, but please don’t send anymore.

I’m addicted to reading and commenting on the 3x a week (MWF) posts, I have to admit.  How fun that I might end up being one of the victi—er—lucky writers that get showcased for torture and public humiliation!  Yay!

Late but Done

I finally sent out a new query to an agent.  Here she is in all her glory.  Wish me luck!  Also, I've been fiddling around with (it's a secret until WotF is done with it.)  I'm hoping to get a few more comments, but if everyone is commented out I'll ship that baby off to Writers of the Future within the next couple of days.  I said it here, so now I must do it.

Can I go back to writing now?  This whole marketing thing is eating my writing time!

A Dove Gray Disappointment

I received a rejection from the wonderful Nelson Literary Agency for my partial of Masks.  I'm disappointed, but also I'm aware that they have to be very, very selective.  They get so many queries, so many partials, so many manuscripts that if I was asked for a full manuscript I'd be very, very surprised (and delighted!)  They reminded me in the rejection that these things are subjective, and after Nathan's contest I can agree heartily.  I'm not taking it personally.  But the stars that danced in my eyes the past few days have fallen to earth.  Time to start my weekly query schedule again.  Hopefully I'll be looking at stars again soon!

Trying to Contain Rays of Obnoxious Brightness

Lock me in a lead box before I irradiate my children.  I'm so excited by the reply from Nelson Literary Agency.  When I first started looking for a literary agency they really stood out.  I like their style a lot.  They're young and enthusiastic and they have some best sellers already on their sales list.  I hope they enjoy my submission and ask for more.  If not, I still feel I did well to catch their attention.  It lets me know that I'm on track with my query letters.  

Hopefully in two months or so I'll have more good news.  Now my question is, am I supposed to wait for them to respond or keep sending out queries?  I think I'll wait, simply because I have a good handful out there and some of those may come back with some interest too.  As much fun as having multiple offers might be on paper (or in this case, in phosphors) I'd find that really stressful.  Besides, this will give me a break from marketing so that I can focus on the whole reason I got myself into this in the first place:  Writing.

Taking Advantage

I couldn't help myself.  I had to join in Nathan Bransford's "The Surprisingly Essential First Page Challenge."  I hate to take advantage such a clearly nice guy.  He even posted my submission for me because (I'm guessing) the dial-up load times were interfering with my ability to comment on that particular post.  I was able to comment on other posts so I believe I was timing out or some such.  Anyway, I looked over my stuff and decided, weirdly, to try with the opening to Mayhem, I think because it stands out most of all my openings.  This makes me want to rewrite the opening to Masks yet again.  Gawd, I just want to smash my head through the wall every time I think about changing the opening to Masks.  Anyway:

As a small child I once lost my balance and touched my hand on a red hot stove.  Before the pain stabbed into my fingers and struck my mind I remember feeling foolish and frightened.  I cried out a not-very-small-child curse and put my fingers in my mouth just as the pain hit me.  My mother hurled herself across the kitchen and pulled me up into her arms.  That scent of our tribe's plush wool, the softness of homespun cloth against my face, the red hair of a Kilhells woman and green eyes staring into mine had always brought me comfort.

I know I'm dreaming, but that same hot pain I remember feels real, and there's no comfort this time.  I'm trapped in that room again, the desert heat doubled by infernal fire in a hearth.  I'm tied with bark rope on top of a camel hair rug.  Instead of hot pokers, carving instruments are heating to white brilliance three feet from my face.  There's a helefrit straddling me.  Nearby, the blood of an infant has dried to black flakes.  I want to wake up, but just like when it was actually happening, I'm helpless.

Something wooden cracks nearby and all at once I'm awake, gasping, my heart pounding so hard it hurts.  My body tingles from the memory of my flesh burning and I'm sticky and smelly with sweat.  I'm back in the present, cradled in a hammock in the belly of a sailing ship.  Sailors stand around a barrel they've dropped.  One sailor glances my way from under the brim of his dirty white hat with an apologetic look.  The others don't meet my gaze.  I'm not sure if they know something's wrong with me, or if it's just me.  My name is famous.  I'm famous, though hardly anyone has met me.  It's always a surprise when people take my word for it that I am who I say I am.  I'm plenty tall for a woman, but I don't think I'm tall enough for a myth.  I don't wear armor, I've lost my sword, and not only did I fail to do anything to aid the war, I think I might be on my way to assassinate the only man who can save the world.

I think people believe that no one would dare claim they were me.  I don't feel up to defending my name or my honor, though, as I awkwardly climb out of the hammock and go to ease the pressure in my bladder.  I don't stagger as the massive ships rocks from one side to the other.  My sea legs come back faster each time I sail, and take longer to go away when I'm on dry land again.  For hours after a long voyage, sometimes overnight, it feels like the land rolls under me, and I often dream of storms at sea.

Submitting Again?

Tomorrow is Monday and it's time once again to drop another Masks query in the mail.  I'm starting to get better at this.  Although they wanted yet another format for the submission, I managed to put it together in about an hour and a half.  That's fast for me.

I think I'll go play on my website.  Some of the modifications I made to the synopsis (to make it fit on one page) gave me some ideas for my book descriptions.

I've got a nasty headache that keeps reaching evil blobs of tension into my neck.  Ugh.  I think it's the rapid changes in the weather, but I'm glad the wind has calmed down and the temperatures have risen.  I love the snow on the ground, and it feels relatively warm outside.  They say we're going to get snow again tonight.  We'll see.  Maybe I can spend the day with my family and get some writing in edgewise.  What would really be nice is if I could get some painting done too.  I haven't cleared out the time and space for that in ages.

Somewhere in there I need to make time to make a snowman.

At the risk of repeating myself, I wanted to write about critiques in general and specifically what a wonderful group INK is and how privileged I feel to be a part of them.  

Steve is a picky reader, especially when it comes to internal consistency.  When he has trouble with the logic of a particular scene, I listen very carefully.  I don't want to become that author who writes about characters that do stupid things because it serves the plot.  I especially don't want to become that author with implausible happenings, ridiculous solutions and character motivations that make absolutely no sense.  He is also our only man.  I hope he doesn't start to suffer from estrogen poisoning at our meetings, because I really need that testosterone perspective, particularly since lately I've been writing male pov characters.

Carole is my eye-roller reader.  She doesn't technically 'do' fantasy, or to look at it another way, she prefers dark fantasy and magic realism.  She's my oh puke reader, and if I'm not making her puke there's a very good chance my writing could reach mainstream readers.  She's also a detail reader.  She's done so many jobs and been enough different places that she has tons of facts packed into her head, while having the valuable skill of being able to discriminate between what I mean versus what a reader who is unfamiliar with said item will hear.  For example, it never occurred to me that a reader would think that even the leaves on a bougainvillea vine would be red when I'm talking about papery carmine bougainvillea vines.  Not only did I assume everyone had seen them but I also looked like an idiot if someone had seen them (like CS) and thought I hadn't and had mis-described them from ignorance.  BTW, Carole, I have a baker character in the next book.  I'm looking forward to your impression of him and his workspace.

Carissa is my form and function reader.  If it has no function, she suggests eliminating it.  If the form is flawed, she catches it.  She also helps with things like details and character motivations, but where she really shines as a reader is as a surrogate editor.  She has read so much fantasy (and continues to read fantasy regularly) that she'll catch it if I'm falling into cliche'.  She also gets impatient with my writing in many of the same ways that editors get impatient with writing.  Their time is valuable.  As a rule they don't like excess wordage, extraneous scenes, scenes that go on too long, characters that have no purpose, expository lumps, etc.  No matter how carefully I disguise them (even from myself) Carissa catches them.  If a description passes muster with her, I'm confident that it'll pass muster with darned near anyone.

I had a really good critique, as always, on Masks with INK this last meeting.  I learned that I'd butchered what probably had been a perfectly fine fight scene before I 'streamlined' (read, took out too much for anyone to follow the action) it, that I'd turned my intelligent character into an unsympathetic hormonal mess, that I'd removed too much calculation in a character's reasoning and turned a dark scene into a mini-buddy movie that lacked chemistry, and many other things.  I also got some great brain-storming ideas that will have repercussions across two, maybe all three of the trilogy that Masks begins.

I sometimes worry that you think you're playing second hat to the Lucky Labs (who I'm also very, very grateful to,) so here's my note of appreciation and reassurance.  You're great readers, and you are all so definitely going to be in the acknowledgements.  Without my readers, I'd be a much less effective writer, no doubt about it.  You also have the horrible job of checking every blessed little tiny scrap of crap I write.  From my bios and cover letters to synopses and outlines, nothing goes out without an INK okay.  You also listen to my endless yammering on WIPs and bleeding characters and plotlines.  We've become more than a critique group.  We're a team, a business venture, and I'm very glad to be a part of you.  Thanks, INK!  You're the best.

First Agent Rejection

I got my first rejection from agent Bob Mecoy.  Looks like he's not taking on any SF/Fantasy writers at this time.  Part of me is glad just to get a response so I have closure.  Some agents don't have time to email or write you back.  Moving on!  I still have to send out my query of the week.  This next one is going by snail mail, so I've been beating around the bush.  Hopefully I'll get an envelope put together today.  There's not a lot of week left.

I printed the rejection out.  I've decided to see how many of these I can collect before I either give up (never!) or get an agent.

I had a Captain Obvious thought today.  If you don't have a good enough submission package to get an agent, how can you hope to sell a book directly to a publisher, especially with a year or more turnaround?  I'm so glad I'm looking for an agent rather than shopping publishers.

INK Meeting

INK had our first meeting of the year last night, and biggest news of the night was welcoming Cheri to our little kult. We didn't seem to scare her off, so hopefully we'll see her again. We had a rousing critique of Steve's flash fiction "Baggage" and my flash fiction "Purgatory" following our newly established five-minute critique rule. I'm still struggling with that, personally, but I promise the other members that I'll get better!

Kami arrived a bit late, but in plenty of time to add her own excellent critiques. We had lovely chocolate custard compliments of Carole. We also decided on writing bios for the new INK FAQ page and continuing the FAQ-building process over the next three weeks.

A good start to the new year, I think! I'm looking forward to the next meeting and Kami's next Masks excerpt.

Psst, fellow kultists, remember to update your monthly goals under your blog pic!

It's in the Envelope

My sub for WotF is in the envelope and ready to get mailed off to WotF.

I just emailed my first agent query for Masks.

Why does the world feel like it's spinning too fast?

If I'm rejected, I'll feel a small let down.

If I'm accepted, I'll be terrified. And thrilled. And terrified. But also thrilled.

I'm working tomorrow from 9-6. Hopefully I'll get the part that needs to be mailed in during lunch. Good luck to all of us.

Masks Lost and Found

Yesterday I had one of the best days ever, because the night before I had a bad, bad moment.  I couldn't find the last half of Masks anywhere.  I made this unpleasant discovery about 11:30 and I was up until after 2a.m. trying to locate it first in my transfer files hoping it was in an odd folder under an odd name, and then on Snape.  That's the danger of changing computers, and not having hard copy backups.  It felt like half of Mairi burned and sank.  I thought I put a pretty good game face on at the time, telling myself that I wrote it once, I could write it again and make it even better.  That it would only take until January if I really put my mind to it.  

All that pretense went away when I found it in the morning on Gypsy.  I whooped and danced about like a crazed fool.  The whole day turned into a joyful blur all because of 66,000 words.  My spirit felt like I'd been on a dozen rollercoaster rides and then drank the best milkshake ever.  I put my various Masks files (there are three altogether) into one mega file and emailed it to my fellow INKers immediately.  Tragedy averted.  Now, back to my tasks, which are to edit and send out the next section of Masks to the Lucky Labs and to INK, and then to work on more query letters.

Woot!

Masks on Fire

So I've been working on Masks in a way that gets me motivated to get those marketing letters in the mail and email.  So far I've fixed the opening (I hope) so that Bainswell is more of a threat.  Around the 5000 word mark, Mairi is on fire.  I hope that's soon enough.  Next, I realized that the scene in the snow will be far more interesting if he starts assessing on a very deep level the life he's tolerated so far, so that it makes more sense that he would never go back  In the new version he has a moment of wondering what kind of person his beloved Gutter really is if he can put a small boy's hand into the hand of a man like Lord Argenwain.  Also, I created something for Mark to lose when he ditches the horses.  Horses, you say?  He has two now, and two sets of saddlebags, and the weapons.  He's going to have a helluva lot to carry, and he's going to lose a bunch of it.

Once he's in the port city he's going to be so exhausted he'll let things happen that shouldn't, and in the morning he's going to try to cover up his trail.  This is much more fun for me.  I just hope it's more fun for the audience and doesn't start quite so slow.

BTW, it still opens with Mark in bed, but he's staring at the ceiling, avoiding the waking up trope, and I don't mention the mirror in the bathroom.

Can you tell I'm having fun editing?  Do you know why?  Because editing has changed work stations.  It's now no-longer in the Not Writing station, but right next to both the Not Writing Cover Letter and the Researching Agents stations.  By comparison, editing is a gas and I could do it all day.

Bliss

I feel like I'm being very naught.

Signet is now at just under 14,000 words. The King's Breed is at a little over 10,000 words.

Progress on Masks--zippety do dah, zippity-yay!

My lame excuse is that I really want to hear from my readers before I proceed with the edit. After all, their insights will definitely inspire me, and will certainly change things about. Why fuss with it twice or three times when I can fuss with it just once?

Sounds reasonable to me.

But the real reason is that I love writing first drafts, and I get to play with two at once. Yippee! Bad me!

You know that time I mentioned writing and discipline and all that? Well, um, do as I say, not as I do.

Woo hoo!

Daydreams

I'm supposed to be polishing Masks but instead I've been daydreaming constantly about the second book. Luckily it's raining, and it doesn't look like it's going to let up any time soon. This means I'm probably off the hook as far as getting the yard and a half of mulch out of our pickup truck and into the garden, therefore, I can be very bad and start that very first (aka sucky) draft of Signet. I haven't hatched a plan for the last book of the trilogy yet aside from the climactic triumph/horror, but that's okay. I'm sure plot will present itself while I'm writing Signet. I'm not sure this needs to be a trilogy. Two books would be fine. But I'm also not convinced that two books, or a trilogy for that matter, is all I've got. It's a pretty plot-heavy universe and playing there is fun. If readers agree, this could end up being a series of unknown length. It would be fun to take Mark/Lark into old age. He would be a nasty player as an older man.

Quote I'm playing with to drop somewhere in Chapter Two of Signet: "I'm learning that the number of scars a man's body can wear are infinite. There's always room for one more without compromising the presence of all the others."

The End

Stats: 126,324 words, 607 pages, twenty six chapters
Completed before midnight on Tuesday, August 14, 2007


Exhausted but happy.

Going to bed now.

122,338

Mark settled back at his desk. He took several deep breaths while hiding behind closed eyes, hoping that a sense of calm and distance would get him through the next few hours. Peace settled into him with surprising ease, but he knew it was just a veneer. It would have to do. He got out the documents and clean paper and began to write. He'd managed to get through one page and part of the next when he heard a shout. He set the pen down and listened, trying to hold on to his calm.

A gunshot blasted from down the hall. A woman screamed. Mark dove for his weapons belt just as the door to his room opened.

It was Jester Juggler, and he was smiling.

119,127

I'm almost to the end of Masks. I'm happy, and yet, I'll miss working on it. On the other hand, I'm excited to get it marketed out to the outside world. On yet another hand (I've got lots of hands) I've already been thinking about the next book, and I'm extremely excited about that.

Now, to rock Mark's world two more times and drive him over the brink. The world will be a better place, maybe, but he'll pay a heavy price for it. Mwa haha! Let the suffering commence!

108774

I see the end in sight.

In Masks, I just poisoned Mark. He didn't like it much. Physically he'll have problems for the rest of his life. Emotionally, it'll haunt him until the day he dies. He never wants to be poisoned again. He'd rather have just about anything else but poison done to him. It was that bad.

Hee hee hee.

Oops, did I just giggle outloud?

Anyway, the bad guys have made their move. They're going to make a couple of other moves too, things Mark really can't do anything about. Then it'll be Mark's turn. And he's not playing nice anymore.

I could type all night on this, but I should really go to bed.

Nah, who needs sleep?