No Letters On My Keyboard

The Green Lantern to Your Sinestro

2012-01-18T13:54:00.000-05:00

Uh-huh. I don't know about you, but even though Hal's all emerald-ey in the picture on the left, my eye keeps being drawn to Sinestro there on the right, on account of all that yellow (okay, and maybe the whole fuchsia face n hands thing). But, see now, that's the (warped) power of the Yellow Lantern.

In other words, fear.

All characters & images©DC Comics

Fear is the power of the evil Yellow Lantern, against which Green Lanterns were powerless for a long while (which is particularly telling, since the Green Lanterns' power is will.) In the canon, (well, one of the canons) the yellow/fear rendered the green rings inactive.

Anyway, musing on shit that's not EVEN related (like Lanterns & writing), cuz that's how I do, I find that the correlation between fear and inaction sticks out like a sore thumb in writing. Like a sore yellow thumb. So too, apparently, did the writer of this brilliantly effective Writer's Digest article that talks about all the insidious ways fear can disguise itself and derail a writing plan.

But just like Hal Jordan wouldn't leave a girl powerless in the face of that ugly yellow dude, the author gives great information about identifying fear, and then not working against it, but with it. For me, that lit up like two bright, shiny green things:

The Green Lantern Ring

Green Lantern rings are fueled by willpower, which their bearers use to create anything they want -- and verily it is called the mightiest weapon in the universe because of it.

So, your ring is how you focus the advice from the article, such as using fear in a positive way. (I particularly dug the tip about ceasing the hunt for "perfection" [which is just another way to avoid submitting a project. You know, out of fear. Damn you, Sinestro!!] Instead of trying to perfect the writing, the author says, hone your voice,working to become more proficient at expressing it every time you approach the page.)

The Green Lantern...uh... Lantern.

The Lanterns are the batteries that power the rings. The battery that overpowers fear? Your will. To create no matter what, to manifest what you manifest, fear be damned and damned right to hell in a flaming yellow torpedo.

So it's fitting that Hal (will) is the nemesis of Sinestro (fear). And reminding ourselves of that is pretty powerful stuff. Even if it takes a rather clumsy and radioactively green metaphor to do it :D

It should go without saying that we are not discussing the Ryan Reynolds...uh...*version* of Green Lantern, especially after the collective snort that twas heard 'round the world upon its release.

A Gift for NaNo-ers, the Stressed & Everyone Else

2011-11-16T07:44:00.000-05:00

For NaNo-ers working like dervishes through 50,000 words, for those (like me) trail-blazing through revisions -- or anyone straining to complete unruly projects that seem to be erasing whole chunks of time and personality to boot -- I offer an early holiday gift: this guided, meditative centering exercise.

It's from The Silva Method (beware, that's some surreous long-form, hard-sale copy on that there page) -- and no, I didn't buy their big ol 10-CD, $200 program; I'm cheap and this download's free -- and it's the craziest, trippiest, most mind-bending way to relax and remember who you are and what you're working for.

This along with regular mindfulness meditation has completely reversed how I approach myself, writing and work. Which is a helluva big deal. Almost all of 2011 was an ugly slog for me, a time when I was straining so fiercely against the steel cables of bipolar and ADD that they constricted until I couldn't think, see or write over the noise in my head. I was constantly racing to catch up, clenched so tight that it's a wonder I functioned at all (I didn't).

Now, I find myself relaxed, calm and with this gorgeous mental cleanliness that, instead of knotting up and feverishly working, actually seems to make me step back from work -- even on deadline -- and relax. Then I go back and finish in a better, more alert state of mind. It actually seems to build hours into my day. How about them apples, y'all?

Enjoy :)

Writing Advice from Southpark

2011-10-19T09:27:00.000-04:00

So I caught this documentary on Southpark the other day. Called SIX DAYS TO AIR: THE MAKING OF SOUTHPARK, it shows how Matt Stone & Trey Parker cough out an entire episode in six days. As in, six days before it airs. As in, they have no idea what the hell they're gonna do on day one. As in, hey, did you know Bill Hader is part of their writing team?

ANYhoo...during the doc, Trey (who largely drives the writing bus), dropped a casual tidbit of advice whilst talking about how freakin soul-crushing it is to write. (Me: HOLEEE SHIT. TREY PARKER GETS IT!) Advice was simple: replace your "and"s with some "therefore"s and "but"s when a scene feels dull. Not necessarily in the writing itself, mind, but rather in your idea sequence.

To wit:

Joe Tremors sneezes all over his wife, and sprays her with snot, and crashes into the wall, knocking himself out cold.

Now, just and-therefore-but-erize it, and it becomes:

Joe Tremors sneezes all over his wife and sprays her with snot, therefore sending a fine necrovirus mist into her face. But his wife doesn't wipe it away; she opens her mouth wider. Joe snaps his head in a double take and stumbles, therefore crashing into the wall. He knocks himself out. But unconsciousness will not be a reprieve for him. Instead, the dark screen of his mind will present a miasma of images and other sensory horrors, therefore becoming a perma-freak-show theater. But only one movie will ever play here. And it is an endless reel of what he saw in the seconds before his eyes fluttered closed: his wife's outstretched arms, her unhinging jaw.The laugh spiraling out of the black gulf of her mouth as her claws reach for the top of his head.

See? A pretty decent idea generator and simple. Therefore, you should try it. I mean, that was some surreous drivel above, but see how ATB unlocked all kinds of little gateways? And they all keep branching off into cooler, darker paths. Therefore I should stop now, before I let you too far into the tangled wood of my brain. But...

And thanks to all who swung by during the Pay It Forward shenanigans, and to those awesome individuals who always comment on my posts, however infrequent they may be. I read them all :)

TYIF

2011-09-16T09:02:00.000-04:00

Not TGIF. Because today, for me, isn't a Thank God It's Friday friday, but a Thank You It's Friday friday. Lemme explain.

Being both bipolar and ADD, I'm constantly tangled in not-getting-shit-done-ness, which makes for stressful, unhappy days. A whole helluva lotta them. And thanks to my natural melancholy and isolation, I tend to let it all suck me into a giant ugly vortex until I can't see straight. (Hello forest, meet trees.)

But this week, the multiverse had enough of my whinging. On not one but four, count 'em, FOUR occasions this week, someone presented me with a reality check. Whether it was:

Exhibit A) My friend Swathi telling me to get over bitching about not having enough time to prepare a healthy meal ("Don't tell me you don't have time and money. It's your body. Feed it.")

Exhibit B) My friend Heather telling me to get over bitching about my sperm donor's failure to send child support ("Dude, look. You're a writer with a cute hubs, two amazing teen sons, and you're putting one of them through private school without that child support money. The donor should be jealous.")

Exhibit C) The comic Louis C.K. telling us all to be thankful for the crazy amazing shit we have and not bitch about stuff like a slow connection on your cell phone ("Give it a second! It's going to space!")

Or Exhibit D) POSSESSION Author Elana Johnson who wrote a post today that reminded me of the times I used to just write for pleasure, not for an agent who asked for my book, like, five months ago and who still hasn't received it because I let the pressure get to me. (It's coming, girl!)

Each one made me stop and think. And then thank. So I'm grateful today, and thankful for that gratefulness. I'ma try to come up with some kind of regular TYIF post as a reminder. This is the first.

Had a reality check lately? Big cheesin grin about something that made you happy? Dish!

Louis C.K.: Everything's Amazing and Nobody's Happy

What, you ain't know My Little Pony rolled like that??

2011-06-24T12:22:00.002-04:00

Man, I get the greatest things from Clarktoon, aka Rooster, the Great Kevinsky, or, you know, the hubs. To wit -- fonky rappin animated ponies. Just click the below (after steeling yourself for some surrreous profanity) and see if your head don't be noddin like the orderly in Mystikal's old Bouncing Back vid...

...you ain't seen bouncin' back...*nods*

Greatest audiobook. Evah.

2011-06-15T19:46:00.000-04:00

Why wasn't this out when MY kid was two??

"FUCK your stuffed bear - I ain't gettin you SHIT!"

*dies laughing*

I mean, when you absolutely, positively got to get e'ry motherfucking child to sleep, accept no substitutes and just get yours free from audible.

You're welcome, mamacitas and papasitos :) Now get some fuckin sleep!

Song about this writer's heart

2011-06-14T11:19:00.001-04:00

Since I've been loving you...

...I'm about to lose my worried mind...

L is for...Lived In

2011-04-14T11:32:00.000-04:00

My high school boyfriend - hi, Will! - became so in part because of our mutual addiction to Stephen King. In those days, you never saw me trolling the hallways of Suitland High without a copy of THE TOMMYKNOCKERS or the gigantic THE STAND hardcover (and, naturally, my Swatch watches, Skidz pants and Asics wrestling shoes).

Then there was our mutual love of the movies. Will taught me to watch for certain directors & actors, producers & screenwriters (that was key, y'all, learning to notice); he introduced me to John Carpenter's THE THING for chrissakes! Ren & Stimpy! Bill Plympton! Liquid Television! (Ah, Aeon Flux. Whither??)

Sigh. 1982 Kurt Russell. Does it get any better?

But amid these similarities was a difference. When a new addition to Will's Stephen King Library arrived, for instance, I had to read it without cracking the spine or bending pages.

And that, y'all, ain't how a sista reads.

I believe books are meant to be lived in. I believe in cracking spines and cracking 'em hard, forcing the ribs of the book wide open. Dissecting plots with sharp dog-ears, marking a passage's can't-stop-what-I'm-doing intensity with coffee rings, creasing covers until they wrinkle like bed sheets. Books should be devoured. Consumed. Digested into the well-worn pulp of satisfaction for the next reader, like breaking in the ass of a pair of jeans before passing them on.

Speaking of which, I hope like hell Carpenter broke in the original enough that this new prequel won't suck. It has Scott Pilgrim's Ramona and LOST's Mr. Eko. A good sign??

Anyway, what about you? Handle your books with kid gloves or the bloody prints of a reader in the trenches?

F is for...Friends

2011-04-13T12:13:00.000-04:00

Uh-huh. Toldja I wouldn't be able to stick to no stinkin' one-post-per-day format for the A to Z Blogging Challenge. But since we're all friends here and y'all know a sista and her...proclivities, I figure it's all cool. So...

F is for...friends. Truly, I yam a cave-dwellin fool. Yet my peeps always forgive my social reticence. Go above and beyond for me, even when I've been MIA for a while. Like last week, when my laptop's operating system went the way of the samurai whilst I was visiting up nawth. While her hubs spent HOURS (of the wee kind) fixing it, my Lizard made cups of vanilla coffee appear and my troubles totally disappear. Dudes. We write in a vacuum. But friends totally change the bag out and let in some air while we do it. Thanks.

G is for...gauche. As in don't worry about being so. Went to my first conference last week, and I was an awkward, no-confidence-having schmoe. Didn't matter. Everyone I met was cool. (It's also for gauche,from the French for "left". Cuz I love me some left-handed-path shit. Sigh.)

H is for...hoi polloi. Sorta ties into the above. I know it's difficult to watch others succeed whilst you & me toil away, but don't fret about being one o the great unwashed for now. You'll rise when you're 'posed to. Meanwhile, wallow in your insignificance (or if you're from Georgia, waller). It's freedom and, hey, makes you appreciate those business-class seats once you score em.

I is for...THE IMAGO SEQUENCE. Laird Barron writes like a hellion, y'all. Stories might invade your sleep with nightmares, but you'll have already burrowed so deep into his mesmerizing prose that you won't mind. Much.

J is for...Jermajesty. I love me some Jackson Five, and I got nothing against Jermaine, but naming your kid Jermajesty? (Zoë is bad enough - can I tell you how many people rhyme it with Joe or tell me their dog is named Zoë? Legion.) Anyway. Titles matter, y'all, so choose yours deftly.

K is for...Knights of Cydonia. No explanation necessary. You're welcome.

Z's Goin Down...

2011-04-06T12:03:00.000-04:00

...to Alphabet Street...she's gonna crown the first post that she meets...she's gonna blog so sexy...they'll want her from her A to her Z....

Mmm-hmmm...you bet your ASS that was a bastardization of Prince's funky 1988 lyrics)

So. Never the joinah-innah, I still couldn't resist joining Arlee Bird's nifty little A to Z blogging challenge, even if it is a joinin of the unofficial variety (like five days late and a Linky list short). But even tho I totally missed the whole sign up thing (yes, in fact I do habitate subterraneously within environs of the igneous variety), I'ma give it a try anyway. Like ta hear it, here it go.

- - - - - - - -

A is for....Alphabet Street. Cuz Z's totally schmooshin the first five posts into one. As in this one. (For the uninitiated, the A-Z Challenge mandates a post a day for the month of April, barring Sundays, with each post beginning with a letter of the alphabet). Tomorrow, I'll mold myself into the accepted one-post-per-day format. Uh-huh. No, really. Okay, maybe?

B is for...biracial. Even if I do sport a funky kind of...ocher...hue during winter, having the skin version of split screen makes for some really innerestin' world viewin. And really great big freakin hair. Not to mention a sorta built-in intolerance for, ah, intolerance. Which might be why it's my mission to add just a bit more flava to horror. Mmm. Tasty.

C is for...conference. Um...so, ack. Attending my FIRST EVAH WRITER'S CONFERENCE IN, LIKE, EVAH. Yeah, a little noivous, but definitely looking forward to the Unicorn Writers Conference this Saturday at St. Clements Castle in Portland, CT. Haz 3 one-on-one MS review seshes booked and a whole crapload of stuff to learn, see, schmooze 'n do. Zoinks!!

D is for...dangit! This is getting long.

E is for...Elysian Fields. Cuz writing is hard, y'all. Fraught. Wraught. Tangled. Gnawing. Fizzy. And ultimately just a wee bit of craftwerk in ye olde grand scheme - but it sho feels like everything to me. Just hope it lands me on the Tobias Alcott and not so much the Byron Tiller side of things...

Win Some Books, Y'All

2011-03-11T13:22:00.000-05:00

Beth Revis, New York Times bestselling debut author of the pretty kick-ass ACROSS THE UNIVERSE (read the first chapter, y'all, and be hooked), is hosting a cool contest where you can score five much-talked-about books - hers included. From her blog:

"As you know, I'm a fan of all these books. But here's my super-short reasoning for why you want each one:

THE ETERNAL ONES by Kiersten Miller is a fast-paced, adventurious love story that involves reincarnation, secret societies, and fire.
THE REPLACEMENT by Brenna Yovanoff is a hauntingly beautiful book that scares the pants off me.
NIGHTSHADE by Andrea Cremer is not about werewolves--it's about true wolves that can shapeshift into people written by a brilliant scholar who incorporate history into the tale.
MATCHED (edit: also a NYT bestseller) by Allie Condie shows us that love can break through any barrier, and the most important thing is to not go gently...
ACROSS THE UNIVERSE is the book that I wrote and I would really like it if you liked it. Also I think you're pretty and want to be friends with you."

Rules are pretty basic - just visit her site to get the deets and then tell someone about it, like I just did :) Pretty fantastic way to support authors & books and get some page-turners to settle in with. God, I love that settling in :) Good luck!

Snap to, Will Henry!!

2011-03-07T10:49:00.000-05:00

You know you want it. Buy it. Now.

The 19th century. We're talking the Gilded Age, New York. Science!! Freezing tenement slums, brightly-lit antechambers, fisticuffs. Drays and hansoms. Puff sleeves for the ladies, frock coats for the men. And that literature. Ohhhh, the literature. Lush. Words so thick they cloister the space like cigar smoke, leather and male pomposity in a Fifth Avenue smoking room.

Now. Add to that Rick Yancey's 12-year-old monstrumologist's assistant, Will Henry. Arcane sciences. Stilted passions. A rising dread, cloying shadows. A khorkhoi. The Victorian sensibility and its delicious, shivery blend of horror. Ohhhh...

In it arises the most gleefully ghoulish depravity. A shambling monster with a lisp. DUDES. IT LISPS. As it tears out your eyes. As its fangs rend the tender flesh of your heart with an exquisite pop. This glorious juxtaposition of the Victorian with the macabre drives, absolutely drives, Rick Yancey's THE CURSE OF THE WENDIGO.

Finished it yesterday. And I put it down with a sigh, mentally licking my fingers as I polished it off. Gorgeous. Universally-themed. With breathtaking writing. A marvelously complicated, aging monstrumologist. "Snap to, Will Henry!" And that achingly lovely, desperately doubting Will Henry himself. If you haven't read the Printz Award-winning THE MONSTRUMOLOGIST, go get it, read it. Now. I'm waiting. Done? Good. Now get THE CURSE OF THE WENDIGO (a finalist for the LA Times Book Prize).

Me? I'm anxiously awaiting Yancey's upcoming THE ISLE OF BLOOD, the next in the series. Awaiting it like a valet awaits your dripping gloves as you peel them off, stamping the dirty snow from your boots. Awaiting it like the butler waits for you to accept a freshly-ironed newspaper and repair to the drawing room. Awaiting it like you wait, frozen in place, head cocked, for that strange sound from the hall to identify itself.

"Jennings?" you murmur, but the butler has disappeared. Your valet has already removed your valise and has vanished up the servant's stair. Behind you, the tufted shadows distort the narrow hall and the house rears up, long and black, around you.

There it is again. That sound. A scratching? No--what is that damnable noise? And where has everyone gone? Taking up the lamp, you peer into the clouded gloom of the stairwell. You square your shoulders, try to ignore the palsied dancing of your nerves, and descend, step by groaning step, into the blackness. "Jennings?" you call again. This time, something answers. With befouled breath, reeking of the grave, into the coarse whiskers of your mutton chops. There is something on the stair. Behind you.

Ahhhhhh.....oh my god. 19th-century horror. YA. With a twist. I love you, Rick Yancey.

Dos Equis: The Man. The Barrel Chest. The Action Figure.

2011-03-03T10:00:00.001-05:00

Uh...anyone else see these recently?

Yep. That's All State's "Mayhem," Dos Equis' "Most Interesting Man in the World" and Old Spice's, well, former "Old Spice Guy" (Isaiah's retired his towel, sigh).

Anyway. They're action figures. What the cheese?!??

Hurm. I s'pose I can see the logic for Equis, anyway. I mean, who doesn't like a guy for whom the contents of his tacos refuse to fall out? Who's the life of parties he's never even attended?

And who cares if that worldly, bearded, tanned Spanish rogue is actually a 72-year-old Jewish guy from the Bronx? Named Jonathan Goldsmith?

And Mayhem is a fitting character for actor Dean Winters, who died for 2.5 minutes in 2009 from a bacterial infection, spent most of the year recuperating and lost two toes and half a thumb from some heinous gangrene along the way. He gives new meaning to the word deadpan.

If Mayhem and Interesting Man aren't enough to send you rushing to order these, consider Old Spice's action figure. Which is anatomically correct.

Stay thirsty, y'all.

Ooh. I haz award :)

2011-03-01T22:11:00.000-05:00

So, here I am vanishing steadily from the blogosophere in my fit o Dem Bad Ol December Doldrums

Oh, you didn't know I was really Marceline?

when into the foul blackness of my personal morass comes a happy bit of LSP-grade smilies.

VB Tremper, you globe-trotting writer you, thanks for thinking of me with a capital T. Or, rather a capital A, for award. Cuz, fo realz, Vicki gave me this:

Thanks, dude! *tips hat* So, per the award rules, I'ma list seven things about me and pass this sucker on to seven bloggers :) Like ta hear it? Hear it go:

Every morning when I awake, there's a random-ass song stuck in my head. I mean lodged in there. And did I say it was random-ass? Yeah. Waking up knowing all the words to Michigan J. Frog's Hello My Baby isn't as cool as you'd think it be. As it by rights should be. (...send me a kiss by wire, baby my heart's on fire...if you refuse me honey you'll lose me then you'll be left alone so baybee telephone and tell me I'm your Oown...) *ribbit*
I can't complain about having teenagers. ~~Getting to point and laugh at them~~ Hanging out and listening to them go through their drama (ohgodtheDRAMMMMA) while watching Discovery Channel stuff about wormholes and dark matter and scarfing tacos can be pretty schweet.
I spend way too much time singing to Wampa.

Who wouldn't?

4. Sometimes I think rural Georgia's gonna kill me.

5. I really dig Fringe. One of these days I'm gonna hug John Noble.

6. Just like VB Tremper, I daydream about studying linguistics one day. Theoretical linguistics. Just freakin' cuz.

7. I can't bowl for shit.

Right. Thus illuminated about my...vagaries, we can move on to the seven stylin bloggers! I hereby bequeath the Stylish Blogger Award to:

And on an unrelated note...

2011-02-16T18:04:00.002-05:00

Why does my cat like feta cheese?????

The 1 person who can stop your procrastination. And it's not you. Not really.)

2011-02-16T10:18:00.000-05:00

So I actually woke myself up an hour early - at six - to get some writing in. No, you don't understand. Six for me is like four a.m. to others. This is huge. Because for a long while, I had been trapped by procrastination. Felt like I had an inability to self-regulate. But I did it, and this is how:

This is my time on procrastination. Any questions?

I found something that actually works for me. Or rather, someone. My future self. According to French researcher Christine Tappolet, consideration for your future self is really effective at combating procrastination:

"Procrastination involves the voluntary infliction of a burden (perhaps even pain) on our future self... harming [our] future self. ...Putting things off for the future self [to do] despite the burden (e.g., dirty dishes left in the sink to do later) clearly indicates a lack of concern for the future self."

Yep. Control of your time really is in your hands.

Uh-huh. So passing the buck to your future self is a really shitty thing to do. I mean, you wouldn't trash your living room and then leave it for your kid to clean up. Cuz it's not cool. And you know it's not cool cuz you have a hot little number called empathy. And turning that empathy toward Future You, putting yourself in your future shoes, stops procrastination cold:

"If we can harness this ... identification with the fate of our future selves, we may not be so quick to ...procrastinate on the task at hand in favor of a future moment. Our empathy for future self will prevent us from making such as present-focused decision."

Trouble empathizing with that future you? Tappolet says you can learn to create empathy for Future You by paying attention to how you treat, and empathize with, other people and apply it to you:

"Remind[ing] ourselves that our future self is every bit as deserving as another human being of care."

And that's what turned me around and got me up instead of me slapping the ol' snooze button. My unwillingness to be a bastard to my future self. My unwillingness to burden her with the guilt and unmanageable workload that I could have lessened by taking care of shit NOW.


Yeah, my future self isn't this creepy. Unless she's pissed at me for slacking off.

And that's another thing. If the idea of willfully harming your future self is disturbing to you, let it be disturbing. Turns out science finds repulsion a really effective procrastinator-killer. And that forgiving yourself for procrastination leads to less procrastination, too. Sigh. Doncha love science? Yeah. Me, too. It's so...futuristic.

Kick-Ass Insight from Haruki Murakami

2011-02-15T12:02:00.000-05:00

In the spirit of writing/running analogies, I thought I'd share this post. It's from writer, globetrotter and blogger David Charles, who reviews author/runner Haruki Murakami's WHAT I TALK ABOUT WHEN I TALK ABOUT RUNNING - and in the process uncovers some fascinating insights. Here, with David's permission, I reprint the post for your illumination - and suggest you check out his blog.

A review of: 'What I talk about when I talk about running' by Haruki Murakami

Murakami is a writer (and runner). That, according to the final pages of this book, is how he would like to be remembered on his tombstone. And, according to the vague thesis of this book, writing and long-distance running are not dissimilar. In fact, Murakami says that everything he knows about writing, he learnt from running.

So what was that?

Writing and Running

Murakami identifies the three most important character traits for a novelist to possess:

Talent.
Focus. Murakami works for 3 or 4 hours in the morning. During this time he is totally focussed on his work-in-progress. He doesn't think about anything else at all.
Endurance. A novelist needs the energy to focus every day for 6 months, a year or 2 years at a time.

For Murakami, talent is innate. The other two traits, however, you can train, in the same way that you train your muscles for a marathon. Focus and endurance are trained by sitting down at your desk everyday and working hard. They are just like muscles, obedient work-horses who take pain with fortitude as long as you prepare them gradually and don't give them a chance to relax and think the work is done. Murakami has a goal not to give his muscles more than 1 day's rest at a time.

A fourth characteristic is needed in the training: Patience. You've got to keep up this training regime and have faith that you will improve - and you will - but it will be gradual and you may not notice anything for a long time.

The good news is that building focus and endurance can make up for a lack of talent - and can sometimes unearth it.

Murakami likens writing a novel to hard physical labour. Writing itself is a mental activity - but finishing a novel is more like manual labour. Murakami also suggests that writers have to deal with all the toxic elements of humanity, which is extremely tiring. To be able to do this for more than a few years you will need to have great physical strength.

With this in mind, the reason to combine running with writing is obvious:

The main goal of exercising is to maintain and improve my physical condition in order to keep on writing novels.

Writing

The story that Murakami tells of the start of his career as a novelist seems too good to be true. He describes the moment he decided that he could write a novel - he just had the idea. He was 28 at the time. Six months later he had finished his book. Then he sent it off to a competition, which is duly won and suddenly he was a published novelist. So he wrote a second one soon after the first and they were both short-listed for a prestigious literary prize.

The bare facts hide the hard work: Murakami worked late into the night - sometimes til dawn - to fit his writing around his work. Even today, he admits that writing a novel is still hard, hard work - like digging a deep hole. The only thing that has changed it that he has become more efficient.

Murakami also says that those two early novels were very different to the sort of books he felt he wanted to write. These early novels were simplistic and drawn from the life he witnessed as the owner of a jazz bar in Japan. This is not a sustainable way of writing, Murakami says: at some point you'll run out of crazy stories to tell. He didn't feel capable of writing a complex, intelligent novel whilst also working full time. So he quit and started writing longer, more sustainable novels.

His early novels were successful and enabled him to move forward as a writer, but now his life is totally focused around writing. He talks quite movingly about the decisions that he and his wife made, that they would wake with the Sun and go to bed not long after its setting. This meant losing out on a lot of social life, but these are the sacrifices that must be made, just as you have to sacrifice time in your schedule for marathon training. So now he gets up early, works for 3 or 4 hours and then spends the afternoon doing less taxing chores. Murakami also naps a lot. He takes a 30 minutes nap after lunch and has got so good at napping that he does not feel sluggish afterwards.

I found this passage particularly revealing about Murakami's philosophy of writing:

As I write I think about all sorts of things. I don't necessarily write down what I'm thinking; it's just that as I write I think about things. As I write I arrange my thoughts. And rewriting and revising takes my thinking down even deeper paths. No matter how much I write though, I never reach a conclusion. And no matter how much I rewrite, I never reach the destination. Even after decades of writing, the same still holds true. All I do is present a few hypotheses or paraphrase the issue. Or find an analogy between the structure of the problem and something else.

Murakami shares one discovery that set him free in his writing: he realised that if only one in ten people who read the book absolutely loved it - then that was enough. This freed him to simply write the way he felt like and to stick to it.

Running

Murakami talks a lot in the book about the meditative aspect of running, as well as its physical benefits. He mentions one marathon runners' mantra in particular: 'Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional.' He enjoys running for its lack of competition - the competition is with the clock and yourself, not the other runners.

He also talks about his philosophical attitude to age and its physical deterioration. He knows his times will never improve again, but he will carry on showing up until he can't any longer. He is very proud of his record of successfully finishing the marathons he enters.

Encouragingly, he also says that he was never able to keep a diary for long - but kept up a runners journal. Incidentally, Murakami mentions that running is a great activity to do while memorising a speech: the rhythms get into the words and into your memory.

He tells us what motivates him to run when he can't face it: 'You don't have to sit on a packed train with commuters or sit through boring meetings - don't you realise how lucky you are?' Compared to this image, running doesn't seem so bad and he hits the streets with the air in his lungs.

Murakami has also run one ultra-marathon (62 miles). He says this event is:

An action that deviates from the ordinary, but doesn't violate basic values - you'd expect it to afford you a special sort of self-awareness. It should add a few new elements to your inventory in understanding who you are. And as a result your life, its colours and shape should be transformed. (Sounds like writing to me! -- ZCS)

This was the case for him, after his 62 mile ultra-marathon he lost the appetite for running everyday. It wasn't necessarily that he had run too much in one go - he lost interest in running everyday no matter what. He'd moved into a new zone, the amount of adrenalin he secreted during marathons went down - so he moved onto triathlons. Murakami would like to do an Ironman, but is scared that the training for it would interfere with his writing job. This is the same reason why he didn't do more ultra-marathons. Remember, the reason for running is writing, not the other way around.

Murakami now does a marathon in winter and a triathlon in summer. This is how the rhythm of his year works. He is always in training. (Bold & emphasis mine. ZCS)

And Me?

I believe a lot of what Murakami is saying and found his simple attitude encouraging. When I cycled to Bordeaux (547 miles) I felt strong and powerful, almost omnipotent. I was certainly transformed and was forced to shake up my ideas of what was possible. I felt I could do anything, anything at all. Surely, (although I don't know yet) it will feel the same to write a novel - to finish a novel, that is. This is my marathon. When I finish, it will be done and my conception of what I am capable of will be transformed again and I will kick on to the next and the next and the next.

###

That's a big 10-4! What a great post. Thanks, David, for letting me reprint it!

Did you quit on that MS?

2011-02-10T12:25:00.000-05:00

Came across an interesting piece on quitting this morning. Resonated cuz I've quit on an MS or two. Current MS is treading water in the wide Revision Sea. Momentum temporarily exited stage left. Which feels like quitting lite. BUT...

Turns out quitting might occur, as this guy posited, much the same way it does when jogging. At first, you're gung-ho out of the gate. Still doing okay, if a little pink-cheeked, mid-run. But as you near the home stretch, your legs and lungs are BURNING in the kiln of pain.

At this point, you start visualizing being done with it. And once you do that, turns out, you're toast. You stop short of your finish line. And that's because, as this guy said:

"When my mind started visualizing the end of the run, it shifted from managing the pain I was feeling to preparing for it to end."

And that's when his resistance fell apart. Huh. So that's why this revision has slowed. Starting to see the finish line. And in preparing for the relief at the end, I feel acutely the pain, fear and doubt of the work still left to be done. I'm no longer managing those stressors now; I'm focusing on them.

So. Time to shift my attention. Time to refocus on managing those stressors with good pacing, positive thoughts. Strength. The hope and non-existent wind-resistance of those starting days. Joy, even. So that, at this last stretch, I don't quit. So that instead...

I break that fucking finish line ribbon like a freakin' champ.

So what about you? Feel like quitting? If so, did this help? Provide some 11th-hour stamina like a protein pack slapped into a marathoner's hand at the 24-mile mark? Shit, yeah! So, go! Go! GO!

Ooh. So that's where it went.

2011-02-07T11:58:00.000-05:00

So. It's February 7th, do you know where your New Year's resolutions are?

I know where mine are: Treading water back there in apple-cheeked and optimistic January. Evidently I'm not alone; Self says only 1 in 10 resolutioners keep theirs -- 75% relapse in the first 2 months. Stressing? Don't: I've got some good info to get you back on track at the end of this post. Trust me, it's some eye-opening, paradigm-shifting shit.

So what were your goals, writing-wise? How are you doing with them? Mine were to treat procrastination to some blunt-force trauma. To stop being such a well-troll and pop out occasionally to see what's happening top-side. And to define what kind of writer I want to be.

Before I fail on all fronts, I'm hoisting the giant .50-caliber Illudium Q-36 Resolution Rocket Launcher and firing some motivation to get you unstuck. First, a blogfest. Shortly I'll post deets and dates, but general thrust will be quick n derrty: give me 3 adjectives describing the kind of writer you want to be & 3 steps you'll take to become that writer this year. (Make 'em specific, y'all, cuz e'erybody knows only specific resolutions tend to stick.)

Second is that eye-opening, paradigm-shifting tip. And it's simple as hell. Just

Trade Willpower For Willingness.

From Pilar Gerasimo:
"The problem with willpower is that it's one hard-driving taskmaster cemented to a static idea of success. But willingness is full of open-minded inquiries, like: How might I go about getting started on this project? What would happen if I tried this? What would be most helpful now? Where the will never says die; willingness is continually reborn and gets smarter and stronger each time around."

So instead saying I WILL FINISH THIS REVISION THIS MONTH, I'm simply saying i am willing to try and how can i best accomplish this? That shit just sounds friendlier. Approachable. Doable, even.

Tip#2: If you wanna control yourself, you first have to control your environment.
Tip#3: knowing the diff between intentions, goals & actions is what creates authentic inspiration.

So what are you willing to look at to meet writing goals? How can you control your environment to achieve the best results--and get fired up again now that February has eaten away that motivation?

Interesting stuff, y'all. I'm thinking. Thinking 'bout it. And that's some damn fine ammo.

Dear God, she's waxing philosophical again. Somebody get this girl a vodka tonic.

2011-02-05T20:46:00.000-05:00

First off, let me say that, yanno, *raises eyebrows* Koontz is pretty damn commercial, isn't he? Even so, that man can still sling the words sometimes. Bending it like Beckham, I mean. Sliding in those little turns of phrases and plot-locking POV shifts that make you nod and go, yeah, man. Okay. Nice.

And this is coming from someone who's not a big reader of He-Who-Shall-Always-Sneak-A-Golden-Retriever-Into-Every-Single-One-Of-His-Books.

The reason I'm not a huge Koontz reader of late is because sometimes his books feel a little too This-Is-How-An-American-Male-Horror-Author-Does-It-Circa-1989. (Just my opinion folks, no hurling rocks here, I still fucks wit a Koontz novel e'ery now and again, sheesh.)

But also because sometimes it feels like his hunger is gone. Ditto my favorite author, King. (Okay, UNDER THE DOME felt at least a little peckish). I mean, I liked CELL and LISEY'S STORY and DUMA KEY, etc. (and still love the eye-closing sweetness of that familiar King voice) but the latter part of the King canon feels a little too much like the hunger is gone for him, too. The hunger that made me feel the weight of Roland's big ol guns or smell the furious oil of a certain Plymouth Fury. The hunger that made me, in turn, devour his pages. Now, the taste lingers, but the hunger is gone.

And I wonder about that. Worry actually. About the thing that happens when you've written your way through the angst of your 20s and the bills of your 30s and the swiftly-shifting political parties of your 40s and into the golf memberships of your 50s--if you've been financially successful in your writing career, I mean. Or that thing that happens if you haven't been successful and all that unpublished angst has burned a bright gold hole into the back of your head through which the sighs of your new yoga breaths gently drain it all away--?

What happens when you get to that point in your career? What I mean is, when you finally see the thing that's waiting on the other side of your ambition. What is that? And if you see it, can you unsee it? Unsee it and catch a little pang that might grow back into the hunger that devours your readers and makes them, in turn, devour your books again?

What is that thing?

*shivers*

Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I just finished reading Koontz's WHAT THE NIGHT KNOWS and I wasn't ravenous but I dug it. Nice pace. Nice tension. Nice eldritch little sub-tones. Nice widening gyre. Enjoyed it so much, in fact, that I let it make me start thinking about golden holes in the backs of people's heads.

*narrows eyes*

Well played, Mr. Koontz. Well played.

Merry Krimmus, Y'all

2010-12-22T12:51:00.000-05:00

Ho-lee shit. Y'all. It's Krimmus in, like, three days. I don't know where the year done went, but it's all a blur to me. Mainly, I've been doing my reclusive thang, with nothing around me but the sound of keys clackin', pages flippin' and Wampa using the lower branches of my Krimmus tree as an on-ramp.

That and the baleful glances I been gettin from Little Face, who is a poor widdle tabby fing widda nasty case of stomatitis (Check those gums, cat people. Despite the eyebrow-singeing kitteh breath). He's taken up a lot of my days lately with a crapload of back-and-forths to the vet.

Even helping Wampa with the lights didn't cheer Facey up.

Though Wampa remains inordinately pleased with himself nonetheless.

So. Yeah. That's what I've been up to. Second revisions almost done, and on time, too. When all's said and the fat lady done belted out her aria, it took me about a year to crank out an MS. And I'm feeling pretty good about that.

Anyway, I just wanted to say Merry Krimmus and thanks to everyone who checked in with me or left a comment on an older post. I'ma be back at the blog come the New Year, when I think I might host a blogfest, a quick sorta What Kind Of Writer Do You Want To Be kind of deal. Thinking rules'll be simple: jot down 3 adjectives that describe the kind of writer you want to be and 3 specific ways you'll work toward that in 2011.

Anyone game? I'll figure out a date and post more about it next week, if the National Arbor Day Foundation hasn't locked me up for my egregious abuse of wrapping paper, if Little Face hasn't locked me up for my egregious abuse of the kitty crate or if That Guy From NaNoWriMo hasn't locked me up for my egregious abuse of procrastination.

I hope everyone finds a little peace this Krimmus, Saturnalia, Hanukkah, Solstice, Kwanzaa, Modraniht, Pancha Ganapati, the celebration of the Signature of the Constitution of the Republic of China, Yule, Sadeh, or otherwise holiday season. I hope your day is bright with paper and that you don't have to sit at the kids' table for dinner, like mine did at Thanksgiving :)


Left, Dez, 15, Right, Gabriel, 14. Don't they look thrilled?

And may you also one day find a Wampa 'neath your tree, who makes all holidays joyous. Holiday holla!

THIS, y'all, this is why I do it.

2010-10-25T11:45:00.000-04:00

So, y'all know I'm pretty fanatical about reading. In fact, I read more than I write, and that's a whole helluva lot. I make it my business to get through 2-3 books per week, if the vagaries of the new gig and time allow. And there's a reason for it. I could easily say I don't have time to read but -

the truth is, if I don't have time to read,

then I'm not a serious writer.

Books are my university, my mentors, my safety net, my go-to for writing advice. So I thought I'd share a few of the things I've read recently, and little snippets that taught me something:

From Ramsey Campbell's THE INFLUENCE:
"Hermione almost dropped the flashlight. The lit wall nodded toward them..."

What it taught me: Tis a small thing, but my first instinct when writing about a flashlight would be to view it from the vantage point of the beam of light. I like how he turned it around, and had the wall nodding instead. Nice.

A reviewer wrote, "When other horror writers were cranking up tension [with] physical horror, Campbell managed by sheer writing skill. This is very much akin to what one might expect had Camus or Sartre ever written a supernatural thriller." Damn.

From Daryl Gregory's PANDEMONIUM:

"Kansas had the purity of a sixth-grade math problem, an exercise in scale and stark geometry."

What it taught me: To look at description seriously freshly, to really see a scene and come at it from an unexpected angle. Who woulda come up with something mathematical to describe a landscape??

A reviewer wrote, "Daryl Gregory can write like a son-of-a-bitch." I'll say.

From Joe R. Lansdale's "The Night They Missed the Horror Show" (full story at that link, tho it's not for the faint of heart) from his collection of stories, BY BIZARRE HANDS (I'll pull out a couple of snippets):

"They tied Leonard's hands behind his back. Leonard began to cry. ... The chain took up slack and Leonard felt it jerk and pop his neck. He began to slide along the ground like a snake. ... When he hit the bridge, splinters tugged at his clothes so hard they ripped his pants and underwear down almost to his knees. ... Leonard picked up speed and the chain rattled over the edge of the bridge, into the water .... The last sight of Leonard was the soles of his bare feet, white as the bellies of fish."

What it taught me: To be unflinching. I actually had to put the book away and go watch, like, Dr. Phil or something to clear the horror from my head and stop my hands from trembling. It still chills me. And I'm nowhere near unflinching enough in my own work - YET - but I know that's where I need to be.

A reviewer wrote of the short story, "[Lansdale] digs in with a keenly honed medical saw. The reader laughs and screams and falls dead silent. Maybe in the same paragraph." Yeah. And shudders and feels ill. Great work.

From "My Pretty Pony," a short story in Stephen King's NIGHTMARES & DREAMSCAPES:

"All those days, stretching away across the plains of June and July and over the unimaginable horizon of August."

Or:

"Grandpa knocked another roll of ash off his cigarette with the side of his thumb. The boy believed Grandpa was so lost in thought that the wind was smoking practically all of it for him."

What it taught me: That even tiny shards of realism can be poetic.

These are the tiny lessons I pick up from books. Seriously, if you're not reading a lot, you're missing out on the tiny gems, the turns of phrases, the character-revealing dialogue -- all the ways you can bend the language. No education like it.

Me? I just finished Mike Shevdon's SIXTY-ONE NAILS (nifty little Feyre novel, outta my genre but I read everything), and have to take a break from Hawking's THE GRAND DESIGN (that shit makes my head hurt), so I'm casting about for the next in my TBR pile...we'll see what it turns up. So what are you reading?

Ooh, a ghost story.

2010-10-22T19:58:00.000-04:00

In a few minutes, I'll be finishing up some work for the new copyediting gig. And you know what time it'll be then?

That's right; time to pack up the chirrun and go see PARANORMAL ACTIVITY 2. Squee!

Check out this trailer and tell me you aren't shivering in anticipation.

Shivering yet? No? Okay, so it's just me. Though part of that quivering is due to the movie's big-budget release (this time 'round, PA1 writer/director Oren Peli had $3 million to play with as producer and a new director, Tod Williams).

The first was made on a shoestring ($10K), and I think that always tends to make filmmakers more hungry, more desperate to get the thing right. So I hope the mayjuh duckets doesn't ruin this one. Mo' money, mo' prollems, right? And I read this NY Times piece on the sequel, and, yeah, I'm a little noivous.

But still. I'm not ashamed to say I dug the first one - and that a question it prompted served as the inspiration for the current MS. So I'm hopeful for this one.

Here's a quick discussion of PA2 through the eyes of a paranormal investigator.

Here, Peli discusses PA 2.

If you care, here's a sit-down with Peli from last year.

ENN-EE-WAY. So tell me, did you see the first PARANORMAL ACTIVITY? What did you think? Gonna see the second?

Courage, you.

2010-10-21T11:31:00.000-04:00

Since my last post was a big black ingress into the equally big and black tumble dryer of my mind when it's blazing with big, black things (like frustration, fear and mistrust of one's own process), I thought I'd do a drive-by post offering something bright and magnificent: courage.

Also, thanks to Daryl Gregory's PANDEMONIUM (dudes, buy it now, run quick, I'll wait) I'm freshly inspired.

Anyway, here's editor Alan Rinzler's toasty post on building some courage. An excerpt:

"Appreciate the difficult things you already know how to do, like teaching a class of unruly teenagers, climbing a tricky trail, or writing a letter to someone who owes you money. Or skydiving, for the adrenalin junkies out there! That mythic, over-the-edge leap into the abyss.

This accomplishes two things: If you pick the toughest thing you’re able to do that isn’t working on your book, it’s relatively easier to sit alone in a room and move your fingers over the keyboard. And it can poke up the can-do confidence and bravery thermometer in your head. That may stimulate some wild new idea to escape your unconscious."

Good words, right? Right. Back to work with me, now with bonus(!) courage. Be brave, folks.

On holding your own fucking hand

2010-10-17T14:35:00.004-04:00

Brief-ish post, cuz the Zoe, she's a-writing. (And finding a minute to chill with the always awesome Alesa Warcan! Shout out!!)

Anyway, today Zoe's actually a-bitchin. At herself (and you'll forgive the peevish tone, cuz Zoe's also a-pissed. At herself.) For plowing through the Internetz, looking for The Right Answer. While knowing all the while that of course this is what I'd find:

There is no got-damned right answer.
Because there is no got-damned answer at all.

What I needed an answer for? A desk absolutely, positively littered, shelled, shrapneled, pasted, papered, hell--sown with notes. And all are pretty interesting, pretty chirpy, but also pretty fucking DEADENING.

Cuz now that I'm at shit-hitting-fan stage, i.e. it's climax time, I'm exploding under a barrage of notes that zoom in like Japanese Zeroes (Zoe remember this; don't forget Devon's doing that; wait your demon looks like this; be sure to drop this little theme-bomb in here like so; ooh here's a cool bit of dialog don't forget to put it here). Too late to duck and cover. FUUUUCCK!

It's drowning a sista. So much that I can't write forward for fear of missing something important, something that might be scrawled on the back of an AT&T bill envelope or Post-It, way the hell at the bottom of a messy stack of notes.

So I actually fired up the netz and searched "novel writing too many notes".

I'm serious, y'all. I actually looked for an answer to that. Today. Sheeshy-fucking-SHEESH.

And what did I find?

Zero-zilch-fucking-nada.

Big surprise. Cuz you know what the answer is? *sound of crickets chirping*

Right. At least that's what the answer is out there. And I already knew that. Just as I already knew the answer to The Great Note Kamikaze of 2010 is in here.

(Like ta hear it? Here it go: 1) don't paper your desk with notes in the first place, DUH. Keep 'em in a notes document. All in one place. Take the time between writing pages to organize those fuckers chronologically, story-wise, so you don't get bogged down. 2) Forget the notes while you're drafting. Notes are for revision.)

And something else I noticed? When I was frantically flipping through notes, they all felt...old. Because I'd already incorporated them into the MS organically - i.e. my brain had hold of most of 'em the whole time. I just didn't trust it to.

So. In case you're like I was just this morning, searching for the Right Pep Talk, the Right Tip, the Right Answer, the Right Hand-Holding, know this:

There ain't be no fucking right answers. And there ain't be no right fucking hand-holding.

Hold your own hand. Trust yourself. I mean, it's your own got-damned process, isn't it?

Under Threat of Public Shaming

2010-10-07T12:06:00.001-04:00

Here's the dealie, yo: I have a zero draft of this MS. Yes, the story's whole, from start to finish. But there are some holes to fill and a revision and polish to perform before sending to betas.

Problem? Due to excessive fear of failure AND fear of success -- coupled with far-ranging, destructive and oft-times humorous bipolar affectation that may or may not have recently included the single-handed chucking of my couch into the backyard [not to mention an industrial-strength procrastination thanks to commercial-grade Adult ADD] -- instead of completing the zero-draft-to-first-draft process, I find myself endlessly tweaking the MS instead of plowing through to The End. Which sucks. Obviously, an immediate and not-quite-sane intervention is required.

So, for accountability under threat of shaming, I present 3 goals, to be completed

by the time I leave for Mexico on October 28th:

1. Finish draft. Requires: writing final chapters, slotting in five new ones.

2. Complete revision & polish. Requires: shuffling some chapters. Deleting unnecessary scenes and words. Incorporating notes from the thousand Post-Its, torn notebook pages and bill envelopes that vex my cat, who finds his desk sleeping space reduced daily.

3. Send to the Bad-Ass Beta Six. Requires: emailing MS to my e-media types. Printing and mailing for my hard-copy enthusiasts. Printing and sliding into binder for personal Next Revision purposes.

###

Wow. Maybe I yam far more mentally unstable than previously imagined. But is there really any other way to live? Perhaps not. So wish me luck; I'm going in. Anyone wanna join me in similar madcap hijinks?

On Being A Brown Recluse...

2010-10-04T11:15:00.000-04:00

So what if my introversion is a knitted body tube? You got a problem with knitted body tubes? Huh?

Yanno, many a week'll go by without an update here; I think I'm averaging about five posts per month. I routinely forget to check RallyStorm to see what's coming up for my Sisterhood of the Traveling Blog chain. I get around to checking my blog roll updates only rarely. Commenting on blogs? A scarcity, lemme tell you.

Also, I NEVER answer the phone (Hubs'll call a thousand times before I pick up; he'll stare when the ringing home phone fails to rouse even a flicker in my eyes; my son, Gabriel, will race to my cell when it beeps with an incoming text alert, absolutely boggled that I don't seem to care.). And don't get me started on social engagements (they are SO few and far between).

Why venture outside when my head's already teeming with life inside?

So what am I doing with all that time to myself? Being a brown recluse (yes, I'm brown, AND can be particularly venomous when need be). If I'm not writing, I'm reading. When I'm not doing that, I'm jogging or working out a couple times a day. Damn you, scary all-day sitting!)

Though I'm happy to haunt the rooms of my house, which is isolated in itself, way out in rural Georgia (I'm talking cow country, y'all) -- I do have moments of guilt. Gee, Z, you really should read more blogs. Answer the phone. Meet friends for dinner. (Working on the latter: seeing Alesa Warcan soon for BBQ & shenanigans!! *waves to Alesa*). Most times, the guilt goes sidewinding away after a bit.

Other times, I look elsewhere to justify my reclusivity. To wit: a fellow kindred recluse, Danielle Steel. This is what she had to say about hiding out at home when writing (part of a post on her writing process).

"I don’t talk to anyone..., don’t return calls, don’t see anyone, and don’t leave the house. I go from my bed to my desk, to my bathtub at the end of my workday, then back to bed, and then back to work. I work about 20 to 22 hours straight, sleep for 3 or 4 hours, and then go back to work. And I do that until I have told the story and the first draft is finished."

So, at least it's not just me. Though, even if it were, I'd be nowhere to be found when it came time to explain myself. Cuz it's just me. What about you? Introvert? Extrovert?

Being an Ass to Your Characters

2010-09-22T10:07:00.001-04:00

This week's topic comes courtesy of the ever-cool Lydia Kang, who axed, "What part of yourself have you put into a main character? Why?" (See what Laura and Danyelle had to say about it.)

Characters swim into my psyche mostly intact. And since ye olde subconscious is holding the net, there's all kinds of Zoe-bits in each one - the flotsam, jetsam and half-chewed fish from the Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald of my brain - which means I now gotta work to make sure they're, yanno, them and not me. And one of the ways I do this is by probing as deep into dey biznass as I can

chiefly by being an ass to them.

Easy way to get another angle on your character? Take the scene you've already got in mind, then run it aground. Got her arguing in a diner? Drop her on a ship's haunted prow while some fucked up apparition screeches toward her - and her only escape is the black churn of water. What does she do?

Is he in a school cafeteria breaking up with his girl? Drop that motherfucker into the funeral of his ex's mother. What does he say? Female detective chasing dude through a Noo Yawk street? Plant her in Afghanistan, bleeding from friendly fire. What happens now?

Remember, you ain't gotta USE any of your alternate scenarios or even write 'em down. Imagining is plenty. Just like we grow best outside of our comfort zones, our characters develop more fully when you take THEM out of YOUR comfort zone (i.e., your planned scene), just to see what happens.

So, yanno, it's cool that my brain comes pre-populated with characters. It's cool if they snatch bits of my personality as they scramble out of my gray matter. It's not cool if they all look, eat, curse and otherwise act like me. That's how I separate church and state, anyway: First realize they're Bits o Z, then swap their situations to see how they act which helps make each one unique, whether they be sons, daughters, captains, cooks - or the North Wind or the Witch of November :)

YES. You can haz Lightfoot.

Sweating Through Writer's Block

2010-09-14T07:00:00.001-04:00

The inimitable Carol Kilgore of Under the Tiki Hut fame has courageously offered me this award:

I say courageously because the award involves sharing seven things about yourself - and anyone who opens up to floor to yours truly is a brave soul indeed :D

But because I'm so damned contrary (thanks dad - you said it best!), I'm gonna do it differently. So in a red-faced, panting, sweating, cursing and oh-my-god-my-legs-are-falling-off twist, I offer you my best seven tips for breaking through writer's block, in lieu of seven random tidbits about me :D (Awardees at the end.)

Sweating Through Writer's Block

1. Get your ass up from the computer. Then, do what I do every day:

2. Walk. (I jog/walk 2 miles every a.m.) Then watch the ideas pour out like sweat and curses.

3. Later, do 3 sets of 10 girl push-ups. (This is especially great if, like me, the Huffington Post terrified you about the dangers of all-day sitting.)

4. After push-ups, do 3 sets of 10 dips. (Start with 5 if it sucks.)

5. Yes, dip right off the coffee table. (Ignore the cats. Bemused little fuckers.) Then plank for 30 secs.

6. Imagine the burn in your abs is writer's block. Burning's for pussies anyway. (Didn't I say ignore the damn cats?) Then:

7. Finish up with 3 sets of 10 squats.

By the time you're done, you'll feel so freakin' bionic that NOTHING is gonna stand in your way. (Definitely not no pansy-ass writer's block.) Or you'll feel that everything's gonna stand in your way because now, thanks a lot Zoe, you can't even stand at all. (Fucking quivering quads.)

BUT. Your blood'll be pumping furiously, delivering lovely little oxygen fruit baskets to your brain, which'll charm the PANTS off the block and it'll cave. See if it doesn't.

Srsly, every time the MS just won't be-freakin-have, I move. Works every time. What doesn't work every time is my adherence to blog award rules. NO ideer how many folks I'm 'posed to pass it on to, but here's 3:

1. Alesa Warcan. Dude. You need more than one award for putting up with my non-responsiveness. :D Especially when you went and made me an amazing award like this!! Thanks! See u at Fox BBQ in October!

Explosions. Gore. And my name. Sigh. Alesa, you get top marks. Thanks!

2. Alex J. Cavanaugh. This blogger with such eclectically cool movie interests kicks so much ass. And I loved his blogging tips from his recent series. I definitely want to know seven new things about him.

3. Laura Diamond. Because, as I said in a comment yesterday, Laura gave me such a boost with an Up and Coming Blogger feature way back when. Never forgot that. Thanks, Laura!

So whatcha sitting around fer? Get up, get your blood moving and elbow drop the crap outta writer's block!!

A Blog Award & Gunslinger Hijinks

2010-09-13T10:29:00.001-04:00

Before we get to the gunslinging below, let me say that, in the best way to start a Monday since coffee and a run, Ricki Shultz kicked my week off right by tossing me some blog award love this morning:

As it's some pay-it-forward style razzmatazz, I'm to hand it over to 15 blogs that I've recently discovered (more or less). So that's a big 10-4 and another thanks(!) to Ricki, as well as the 15 blogs it goes to next:

1. The Vegetarian Cannibal
2. Janna Qualman
3. DJ Kirkby
4. Milo James Fowler
5. Kristopher & Crew
6. Carl @ I Like Horror Movies
7. Laura @ My Dear Trash
8. Deniz Bevan
9. Melissa J. Cunningham
10. Karen G of BBQ fame!!
11. Nicki Elson
12. Angie Ledbetter
13. The Scribbling SeaSerpent
14. Kelly M. Olsen
15. Carol Kilgore @ Under the Tiki Hut

Psst! Guys! Don't look now, but it's a #seguefail!!:

Just when I was bemoaning the lack of new television (tho, at least I still have Fringe and The Walking Dead this year and Joe Hill's Locke & Key next year), there's THIS news:

Pic from StephenKing.com

Yep. That's a rather dark tower. And yep, that's a gunslinger. And you know what THAT combination means:

Stephen King's THE DARK TOWER!!!

Ron Howard, Akiva Goldsman and Brian Grazer are working on the story of Roland & co. for a film trilogy & television series of Stephen King's Dark Tower epic next year. Y'ALL. I don't know about you, but I can't freakin' WAIT to see Roland amble out with his big-ass revolvers blazing. Susannah! Cort! The Man in Black! Hell, SHARDIK!!! Hot damn!!

Let's see, I love this shit so much I named a cat Roland, I won't ever buy a semi-automatic handgun - cuz I HAZ to haz me a revolver, and there MIGHT be a Dark Tower easter egg or four in my current WIP :D

THIS is cool...

2010-09-10T12:14:00.000-04:00

While I'm definitely a visual kind of creature, I do love me some sounds. That's why I squeed in my mouf a widdle when I saw sound designer Ben Burtt's latest book: THE SOUNDS OF STAR WARS:

I'm sure I've said it before, but like the White Stripes, it bears repeating: My favorite STAR WARS sound comes from this guy in Episode II:

Behold the awesomely rippling roar of the Reek as he lumbers out in the first few seconds of this clip (beware, it's a really fleeting coupla seconds, and doesn't last nearly as long as it oughta):

Even so, isn't that just the most delicious sound??

Ah...the bleeding dark...

2010-09-03T10:23:00.001-04:00

This is my brain on darkness. Any questions?

The dark n' lovely Lolly Jane Blue, without the perm. C/o Caitlin R. Kiernan's blog.

Wait, you do have questions? Okay, I'll post the two I get the most:

Why do you write horror? How can you read that stuff?

1. I write horror because it makes me a better person, a better mother, a better fatalist, a better dreamer, a better thinker, a better jogger, a better fighter, a better fear-er, and a more wicked wife (trust me on that one, folks. My hubs, The Great Kevinsky, lays down with darkness every night. Makes him a better optimist).

2. I read horror because it sings to me. It lulls me deep when I sink into its smoky bed linens, curls my lips into a smile when it telegraphs its bleeding radio show into the glowing filigree of my brain synapses. It's like electricity, with more shudder.

What sings to you?

Hurm...

2010-08-30T10:00:00.000-04:00

So, caught BROOKLYN'S FINEST Saturday night. And yanno why it didn't rake in the millions when it was released back in March, despite a cast that included Gere, Hawke, Cheadle, D'Onofrio, Snipes, and Tomlin?

Because it was

........Un.....re....lent.....ing.....ly....bl...*cough*...eak...

*dies*

So, um. Yeah. Unless you want your readers to start glancing all shifty-eyed at the Valium when they've reached the endgame of your book, toss some redemption in there...even if shit's bleak, man.

Make it worth it in the end.

The Old Masters

2010-08-28T15:56:00.000-04:00

Got all squee-d when I reordered some Machen yesterday (*booksies!*). That's cuz I read a lot of early horror masters along with the modern horrorists - it's compulsive. Can't help it.

So who are your great masters,

the influencers of your chosen genre?

And do you read 'em regularly? Do your impatient 2010 sensibilities, like mine, wrestle with the clotted form of early fiction? How do you overcome it? Me, I just keep going back and re-reading 'til my errant sensibilities adjust. Here are a handful of the greats of my genre:


Arthur Machen (1863-1947)

Arthur Machen's The Great God Pan (1894) is considered one of the best horror stories ever written - not surprising, given that Machen's work underpins all that is metaphysical and malevolent in today's weird tales:

"There is a real world, but it is beyond this glamour and this vision...beyond them all as beyond a veil. I do not know whether any human being has ever lifted that veil; but I do know, Clarke, that you and I shall see it lifted this very night from before another's eyes."

Mary Shelley (1797-1851)

Did you know Mary Shelley's The Last Man is a precursor of dystopian fiction?

"Thus we began to feel, with regard to many-visaged death let loose on the chosen districts of our fair habitation... Nations, bordering on the already infected countries, began to enter upon serious plans for the better keeping out of the enemy."

Algernon Blackwood (1869-1951)

Algernon Blackwood is the grandfather of the ghost story. His The Willows is also hailed as one of the best of all time:

"With this multitude of willows, however, it was something far different, I felt. Some essence emanated from them that besieged the heart. A sense of awe awakened, true, but of awe touched somewhere by a vague terror..."

Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)

Nevermore ponder this dark romanticist with weak, weary quotes about ravens. Get some new references via Edgar Allan Poe's first short story, Metzengerstein:

"'He is your own property, Sire,' replied one of the equerries. 'At least, he is claimed by no other owner. We caught him, just now, flying all smoking, and foaming with rage, from the burning stables of the Castle Berlifitzing..."

Howard Philip Lovecraft (1890-1937)

A machete'll get you through Lovecraft's adjectival thicket - all eldritch and enclosed by cyclopean walls of non-Euclidean geometry. But not for nothin' exists hoary plush Cthulhu, or the undying myth of the Necronomicon, spawned by H.P.'s "Nameless City"...

"Remote in the desert of Araby lies the nameless city, crumbling and inarticulate...It must have been thus before the first stones of Memphis were laid, and while the bricks of Babylon were yet unbaked. There is no legend so old as to give it a name...but it is told of in whispers..."

Robert W. Chambers (1865-1933)

Robert W. Chambers' The King in Yellow influenced many tales...

"This is the thing that troubles me, for I cannot forget Carcosa where black stars hang in the heavens; where the shadows of men's thoughts lengthen in the afternoon, when the twin suns sink into the lake of Hali; and my mind will bear for ever the memory of the Pallid Mask..."

Lord Dunsany (1878-1957)

There's just no not including Lord Dunsany. Everyone from Tolkien to Le Guin to Lovecraft has a hard-on for his collection of short stories, The Gods of Pegana:

" ...and Beyond it where lies the Silence, and the Rim is a mass of rocks ... and on it sat Trogool. Trogool is the Thing that is neither god nor beast, who neither howls nor breathes, only It turns over the leaves of a great book, black and white, black and white for ever until THE END."

So what say you, O weary-eyed patron of the early, that which must needs be convoluted and arcane?

Who be your masters?

Waiting = Woodsheddin'

2010-08-25T01:22:00.000-04:00

Yoo-hooooo! Yeah, so it's me, and it's blog chain time. Topic:

How do you deal with waiting?

Foist of all, make sure youse check out Laura's, Lydia's and Danyelle's tricks for getting through da wait between query responses, critiques or revisions.

Me? Though I haven't been through a query cycle yet, I *haz* waited for a critique, and I definitely haz a plan to handle the 30-day quarantine of my MS. And the way I deal with it is by working on whatever's at hand. See, for me, waiting is

wood-sheddin' time.

wood-shed-ing [wood-shed-in]

- noun

1 : craft-building work between WIPs that includes confidently writing & submitting short fiction, mowing through To-Be-Read pile, and transferring focus to sparkly new MS idea Zoe remarkably found the discipline to avoid during drafting of previous MS

2 : slow-dawning realization that the Previous MS is like deranged aunt hidden family-secret style in the turret and who appears to be safely tucked away from public view but who makes increasingly alarming thumps and bodily sounds when anyone comes to the door

3 : even slower-dawning realization that you do not, in fact, have a turret

4 : a rapid downward spiral of coffee, Internet blockage for Gmail's plausible deniability, and the consuming of any and all refined carbohydrates whilst realizing original definition of wood-shedding may have been delusional and, in fact, rather indicates that you, lovie, may actually be the deranged aunt in the turret that you do not, in fact, own, but that is part of the skyline of the Regional Residential Treatment Center For The Criminally Insane, Turret-Less, or Those Who Speak Creepily In Second Person.

### USES LURE OF RAY BRADBURY BELOW IN PLACE OF ARTFUL SEGUE ###

Yeesh. So I actually *did* intend to write a serious post about my serious wood-sheddin' plans, and while I do actually have a packet of four short stories to carry me, one story per week, through my MS's 30-day waiting period, and while I do have a pipeline of about five novels from which to choose my next adventure...

...the fact is I'm not sure what in hell I'm gonna do when it's time to wait. All I can do is what I always do:

1. Focus on what's at hand. The next short story? That sounds good.
2. Be easy on myself and forgive myself my writing trespasses, which will no doubt extend to waiting.
3. Cheer myself up with Ray Bradbury's sexy, unabashed boxer-short style. Man's a rock star.

20 Steps to a Teen's Epic Week

2010-08-19T10:06:00.000-04:00

DISCLAIMER: Sometimes, I rather enjoy being an unconventional mom. Even when there are times, like last week, when it wears me the f*ck out. In fact, this post was to have been written last Friday, but I was too knackered to do it. So here 'tis now, though 'tis late.

20 Steps to Making Your Teens' Whole Week, Zoe-style:

1. Spring your 15-year-old, Desi, from his second day of 10th grade.

2. Liberate your 13-year-old Gabriel from his pre-first-day-of-eighth-grade required reading session. Who wants to read JOHNNY TREMAIN anyway? Not this guy:

3. Give 'em both some bogus reason like having to duck into Atlanta for some appointment on their behalf. Don't tell them until you arrive that your destination is the sidewalk in front of Criminal Records.

4. Enjoy their bafflement for a moment, then draw their attention to the sign in the window.

Yanno, the one that says #SPvsATL Round 3: The Signing 3 PM Today! Which explains why you've brought their homemade tribute Scott Pilgrim tee-shirts. Flash a grin as they hurriedly pull them over their heads.

5. Enjoy smug satisfaction that you're second in line. Especially when you know it's gonna look like this by 3:

Pic by Veronica Kai. And, yeah, it was that hot.

6. Watch your kid go from happy-to-sit-in-line to I'ma-kill-someone-with-this-if-we-don't-get-inside soon.

7. Make this face.

8. Then send boys inside to annoy Criminal Records staff by taking pictures of them setting up...

...and by indulging their strange fascination with Pocky.

Sigh. Yes, that's Dez's hand. Yes, he was so knocked out by GIANT Pocky that he had to offer said hand for purposes of scale.

9. Happen to spot your husband's cousin, Anthony, who works at Project 96.1.

Hi, Ant!!

10. Listen to boys squeal like teenage girls when Ant hands us three of these:

Except they didn't look like this, cuz those were for Boston, and we're in Atlanta. But three free advance screening passes!

11. Bless the air conditioning when we finally get to line up inside.

12. Try to keep your 15-year-old from hyperventilating when they actually MEET these guys in person:

Oddly, Michael Cera is much less Cera-ey in person. Schwartzman, on the other hand, is just as Schwartzy as you'd imagine.

13. Hitch a ride home on their cloud nine; listen to Dez's shocked tearfulness about how "JASON FREAKIN' SCHWARTZMAN" got up and hugged him as he hyperventilated, and G's excited chatter about how Edgar Wright gave him some backstory re: the 4 1/2 tee-shirt G had made. Grin at autographed shwag.

Gabriel lucked out into being one of only about 5 who got personalized autographs. Nice!

14. Spend Wednesday recovering, and posting crappy cell-phone vids, such as the moment when director Edgar Wright (SHAUN OF THE DEAD, HOT FUZZ) entered stage right.

15. And when Scott Pilgrim himself, one Michael Cera, finally stumbled in.

16. Thursday, give 'em two pistol fingers of triumph when they return from school MUCH COOLER than when they went. Yanno, cuz they each got to take a friend to the Thursday nite advance screening.

17. Smile as you hear them, from two rows back in the theater, singing along to The Clash at Demonhead (a.k.a. the real life band, Metric, whose Scott Pilgrim tracks they'd downloaded weeks before).

18. Leave the theater with four boys and a hubs still thrilling after a movie that went something like this:

19. Promise to take them to see it again this weekend; grin as hubs frames this and puts it with all the other strange art on our living room wall.

20. Finally, know that, as one cool-ass mom, you KO'd the HELL outta the week :D

Any questions?

A Broad

2010-08-07T11:14:00.000-04:00

Oh, hey, look! I haz a blog! Who knew? Sorry for the interminable delay in new posts, folks...I haz been trying to find re-entry into many things lately, including my life, including my book, including the blog.

And wow. It's not easy.

Now where the HELL did I put my ROBES??

So what do you do when your life feels like some exotic country and you're an alien abroad? To wit: I spent most of July holed up in isolationus extremus. I was child-free, my 13-year-old son having jetted to England with his British grandmum for the entire summer and my stepson having headed to his mom's for the same length o time.

While 'twas faboo getting all that lush writing time (10-hour days! 97 percent of the second draft done!), memories of that life now seem like a travelogue from someone else's journey. Like on BBC. Or one of Morgan Freeman's time-, space- and brain-bending dispatches from Through the Wormhole.

EsPECially since I've experienced some major WIP-us Interruptus lately. See, in the past two weeks, I've retrieved one son, hosted my brother for several days, road-tripped home to the D.C. urrea with said brother to retrieve the other boy from Dulles Airport, spent a week in that urrea visiting me mum, and then spent the last two days trying to get back to Atlanta from Dulles (damn you, AirTran!!!)

See, it's lovely as hell in the country of my usual life. But damn if I can seem to GET BACK to that country.

Got home last night. Cracked open the MS, which looked alien as hell. Tried to remember those blissful July weeks, which felt alien as hell. Mothered two newly-returned boys, who, being teenagers, are alien as hell. And don't get me started on reacquainting with my four kittehs. (Feline = alien. Aw, hell.)

So what do you do when your life is, like, Cambodia and you're from, like, Finland? Take pictures? Eat? Gesture wildly to the locals that you're, in fact, a local too, but just forgot your mother tongue - and hope it all comes back to you?

No. You ask Morgan Freeman what happened before this life, that's what you do. Cuz Freeman knows all. Sees all. And haz cool 3-D freckles.

Wanna Ignite A Teen Reader?

2010-07-28T07:00:00.003-04:00

EDIT: So, totes forgot about my own blog chain (whaddya want from me? I'm logging ten-hour writing days here). Anyway, what makes it really bad is that the question for this month's chain, answered already by Laura, Lydia and Danyelle, was my own. So this week's question is:

Got any weird writing habits?

I actually only have one or two. Okay, maybe three. And they mainly have to do with helping me strap in and get started:

1. If the going's tough, I get a totem. Usually it's one or two rings for my right hand. Just a little silvery gleam, but it makes me become aware of my fingers, which equals a little focus.

2. I muse. A lot. My favorite part of my daily writing process is all the freakin time I spend on my back porch, pondering. Isolation's key for this writer.

3. I hate laptop keys. While I can write on 'em, and have done quite a bit, I much prefer the thockity-thock of PC keys to the thickety-thick of laptop keys. So if I'm in a rough spot, I default to texture.

That's it. Huh, looking at it, it doesn't seem so strange. What about you? Got any funky little habits to make the words come? If not, then it's back to my previous post for today, which is:

UNDERSTANDING THE TEEN READER BRAIN a.k.a. SCOTT PILGRIM

Yeah, it's Scott Pilgrim and, yeah, it's a movie. Comes out next month. Know who've been TEARING THEIR HAIR OUT for it to fine-a-lee be released? My 13- and 15-year-old boys who've been reading, sharing, breathing and re-reading Bryan Lee O'Malley's graphic novel series for the last year. Yanno, these:

Nintendo power-ups. Epic fight scenes. A slacker bassist hero. Boss battles. Ninjas. Subspace portals. Hot chicks (and I do mean "hot" in the literal sense; my 15-year-old put a Kim Pine iron-on on his pillowcase and pines, please excuse the pun, daily for her mega-hot manga body), chicks with names like Knives and Envy. What's not to ~~go all fanboy over~~ like?

Srsly, each book is like an operations manual for the teenage boy brain (and a whole helluva lot of teenage girl brains, too). Use this intel wisely, my friends...

INCEPTION in 13 Words

2010-07-21T12:41:00.001-04:00

Never have I wanted so much to see a freakin' spinning top FALL.

###

(First, don't forget to pop over to Danyelle's for her take on the writerly rituals that make up the subject of this week's blog chain.)

Okay. So, for INCEPTION, I'm only gonna add my quick two cents, since there are so many reviews already - Nolan's nifty dream-within-a-dream-within-a G.I. Joe snow fort has absolutely freakin buggered the critics. But I will say Christopher Nolan nailed it.

And my reason is simple (minor spoilage?): there came a point at which EVERY EYE IN THE THEATER felt like it was pinned onto that freakin spinning top. And at that point, we all had become grubby story urchins tugging on Nolan's coat-tails with the only question ever necessary in storytelling:

BUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT!?!?!?

But that's also the point where Nolan lost me - because I'm not one for a Schrodinger's ending. I despise them. To me, you start a freakin story, it's your freakin job to end it. Don't be all coy and shit. Man up with the ending; it's your goddamned story.

Aside from that, I was hooked. Dudes: DiCaprio! Watanabe! Berenger! Hardy! Caine! Gordon-Levitt! Rao! Murphy! Cotillard!

JEEbus. The talent. Artists like that striving on a story like Nolan's always makes me want to strive better, reach higher, fall harder in my own work. And that, liebchens, is why I haven't been around so much in the blogosphere - I'm working like a mo-fo to craft this novel and end it. Hopefully, I'll pop back up within the next two weeks and get back to visiting blogs and commenting, etc.

Meantime? I luurrrvvee pop culture. Watching other artists freakin making it happen in different outposts of creative discipline just turn me ON. Especially movies. Especially movies. So I might just have to catch INCEPTION again - when I can take a moment from the work.

What about you? Seen it? Gonna see it? Love it? Hated it? Whatdja think?

Formerly, Education

2010-07-15T08:45:00.067-04:00

Read an interview with Holly Cupala on Christine Fonseca's blog (great interview, Christine!), and one of Holly's answers, about how long she'd been writing, made me think about how long it takes to build writing chops.

For Cupala, it's been a ten-year span of craftwerk, some "dreadful picture book manuscripts," a few sales and other shenanigans until she wrote TELL ME A SECRET -- her YA novel that was published last month.

So I wanna know: how did YOU build YOUR writing chops? What experiences became the brick and mortar of your writing career to this point?

My story? Starts commonly enough: Wrote my first "book" when I was five. Yeah, that Newbery star was called THE GIRL WHO LOVED TO DANCE and you can bet your ass it was five electric pages of crayony drama.

Flash-forward to a performing arts H.S., where I skipped many rehearsals to write really shitty stories in the computer lab. Somehow scored college scholarship to play jazz piano. Dropped out (kids, please don't try this at home; if you do I'll come after you with spoons deadlier than whatever The Creeper used to cut Justin Long's eyes out) cuz the writing, it called me.

Several years lata (say it like Chris Rock, come on, do it, lata), I placed a few pieces in some national mags, became a newspaper staff writer, wrote first MS, took senior copywriter position and then managing editor gig, killed first MS, built a roster of clients.

Today, I'm a freelance copywriter tromping through a second novel. After 10+ years of wood-sheddin', I'm inching closer to the right track. But I'm still not there. Gah, the work. It makes me philosophical.

So I want to hear from you. How did you sharpen YOUR writing chops?

(Man, this woulda been a fun blogfest :/)

Midnight Drive-By

2010-07-15T01:00:00.004-04:00

Okay, guys, listen up. This is a drive-by (literally; tomorrow's post is set to publish at 8 a.m.) It's 12:58 a.m. and I'm wired. Since the introduction of Adderall, whose Dextroamphetamine Border Patrols have put the fuckery of my mental back nine on lockdown, I've been writing like it's my full-time job.

See, I'm whipping a zero draft into an acceptable first. But my Inner Editor keeps chasing me down rabbit holes (she's ultra focused, see: Border Patrol). I shoulda knocked out three chapters today, but only got through one because I was being, yanno, all precious with the words.

That, my darklings, is what second drafts are for.

So right now, to keep my fingers fleet and my Muse accountable, I'm gonna note the time I finish jotting down this post. Within 60 seconds of clicking "publish," I'm going to open my MS. Tackle chapters 25 & 26 - overwriting, weak motivation, missing facts and repeated words be damned. Then I'm going to report back in within an hour. Timed writing, y'all. Timed writing.

Okay. *takes breath*

1:01 a.m. (Ach, the stalling.) I'm goin' in.

UPDATE: It's 2:24 a.m. Yeah, so it's past an hour. And, yeah, I wrapped Chapter 25, but not Chapter 26. But it's still over 1K's worth of new words, and two chapters down for (technically) the day, and I wrote past my Inner Editor. Think I've just found the trick to silence that critical punk. Starting Chapter 26 after I get some sleep. Helloooo, momentum!

Two Words To Ignite Tension

2010-07-11T10:25:00.001-04:00

Checked out PREDATORS Friday night and dug it. One, cuz it's freakin PREDATOR (and, dudes, Adrian Brody gives American Action Hero a solid turn).

Two, I love producer Robert Rodriguez, who's still hungry for stories and always comes with a rack of killer actors (hello Danny Trejo!). (Have you checked out the trailer for MACHETE? Here's hoping the tiresomely aggro Michelle Rodriguez doesn't bork it up.)

And three, director Nimród Antal gives the franchise plenty of warmth and love for the original PREDATOR, with all kinds of judicious ass-kicking and this buzzing, god-awful tension that snatches you up and doesn't let go until shit is smashed, bleeding, wrecked up and on FIRE.

What made that movie? It was FULL of the please don't, the two most important words when it comes to building palpable tension in a story. I turn to those two words any time I need to ratchet it up in the MS.

It's easy to do: just open up your scene, drop yourself into your character's head and then ask yourself what's on the other side of that please don't for your character:

Please don't...hurt me?
Please don't...be what I think it is on the other side of that locked door?
Please don't...tell me to open that fucking door, because I don't think I can do it?
Please don't...be dead?
Please don't...let me be alone in this dark place?

Then take it just a little further and drop yourself into the other side of that please don't coin, into the head of the antagonist, into the machinations of whatever's hurling obstacles at your MC like freakin ninja stars, and into the thoughts of your supporting characters in that same scene. What are their please don'ts? What do they know of your MC's please don'ts?

Now things are starting to feel tense. (Which is another little Jedi mind trick that works for me: Where my MS needs more tension, I don't use the word "tension" in my notes. I drop a single word at the beginning of said passage: tense. That makes me think of locked up muscles, lips drawn up tight, jumpy reflexes, eyes snatching glances, etc - suddenly I know what to do to keep tightening that wire.)

Works like a charm. What about you? Got any simple tricks for making things tense?

It's ALIVE! (And, yanno, an invitation.)

2010-07-07T12:01:00.001-04:00

First, mosey on over to Laura Diamond's blog to check out her blog chain entry on quirky writing rituals. It's a good one!

Okay. So you remember that post from way back in which I waxed poetic about being a brown recluse? Yeah. So I've been a TOTAL recluse for the last week or so. I just tend to have ~~moments~~ days when the outside world is just too...exhausting to participate in, and sometimes that outside world includes the online world.

BUT. I'm back from outer space, and, in case you were wondering, I'm still alive like GlaDOS:

So I'll be back to popping in and out of the blogosphere and reading and commenting on everyone's blogs, but a little less regularly on account of three things:

1. I'm in the home stretch of this damned novel and it's all systems GO! I have a handful of shiny shiny short story ideas I want to play with before the summer's out. And I can't do that until I have a "the end" posted at the end of this draft.

2. Adderal. Got-BLESS mind-focusing drugs. Seriously, y'all. Turns out my industrial-grade procrastination is a product of adult attention deficit disorder. Which, considering my sib and other fambly members are thus afflicted, should have been more on my radar. But, yeah. Anyway - so I'm ZOOMING along on this MS like never before.

3. I'll be absent at least ONE day next month (I hope!) - due to my open invitation:

That's right!! I've "met" so many cool ass writer/bloggers based somewhere in Georgia, so I'd like to issue an invitation for any Georgia writers (with reasonable proximity to Atlanta) to get together one night in August for dinner, socialization, beer and support, support, support. And did I mention beer??

Just let me know if you're interested either in the comment section or via email (zoe.courtman AT gmail DOT com) and I'll find a location (maybe Apres Diem in midtown??) and get a date set. Come on, y'all! Writing's a lonely sport. So let's get together, drink, and bitch - it's just one night!!

Hope everyone's holiday was terrific. See you all online soon! (Promise I'll get to everyone's blogs this week. After all, you guys are the ones who get me through it!!)

Zee Magical Writer-Type Nook

2010-07-02T10:40:00.000-04:00

So, back on June 25th, everyone's beloved Rejectionist waxed poetic about her special authorly-type place, i.e., where she writes, or, yanno, where the magic happens. As per her guidelines for joining in (that you put up your photo and link to it in her comments section), here's what I see when I:

Look right!

Um *in best tour bus operator voice, with bonus distortion*, so here we have Zoe's writing space. On our right is the much-vaunted wall o' tomes and her Great Notebook of Chaos....

And, if you'll look left, you'll see the portal to the ~~great, terrifying abyss of clutter~~ family room, and my best left-desk-corner accessory, Wampa. *slows tour bus so's everyone gets the shot*

And, right chere, an oldie but a goodie: my letterless keyboard, once again on display for a FINAL (or, yanno, not so final because my spiffy new LED keyboard isn't here yet) SHOWING!

So, I lurves my little writing nook because A) there are arches. Dude. Everyone needs arches. B) there's an entire WALL o books breathing at me from the right. And C) it's where Wampa, my fluffy-little-yeah-he's-cute-and-all-but-the-little-fucker-can't-kill-a-spider-to-save-his-LIFE Wampa, hangs out all a-purr for most of the day.

As does Little Face, who's all legs in this photo, cuz he's busy STANDING ON TOP OF THE BACK OF MY CHAIR and yanking me off balance. (No, seriously. It sucks when the stocky little bugger leaps up and WALLOPS the chair with his considerable weight.)

Anyway, so I'll leave you with what you've been DYING for: MORE WAMPA!

WITH his Wampa!:

Anyone else sharing their authorial type places today???

Mmmm...the booksies...give us the booksies...

2010-07-01T11:10:00.004-04:00

You know what's more fun than your berfday? Getting bookstore gift cards for your berfday!! This year, I got some good ones from Borders and Barnes & Noble (and an Amazon gift card from the uber-cool Shannon Whitney Messenger, whose contest I won a while back. Thanks, Shannon!) Consequently, I just spent the BEST MORNING EVER, luxuriating amongst the virtual stacks. I'M SO EXCITED!!! (Srsly, dudes, the booksies make me do awesome and terrible things. I loves them.)

So these are the booksies I'll be ~~mainlining~~ diving into soon:

KRAKEN: When a nine-meter-long dead squid is stolen, tank and all, from a London museum, curator Billy Harrow finds himself swept up in a world he didn't know existed: one of worshippers of the giant squid, animated golems, talking tattoos, and animal familiars on strike.

THE LITTLE STRANGER:

Called upon to examine the housemaid, Dr Faraday finds himself strangely drawn to the dilapidated house. What begins as mild fascination transforms itself into something more pronounced as Dr. Faraday scrambles to make sense of the strange happenings that begin to haunt Hundreds Hall.

NAOMI:

The man who loves Naomi must descend into the labyrinthine subway system to find her and bring her back to a world where a New York brownstone holds a burial ground of those accused of witchcraft, where the secrets of the living are within the ancient diary of a witch, and where a creature known only as the Serpent has escaped its bounds at last.

FINGERSMITH:

In Victorian England, an orphan girl, Sue, is sent to a country estate to work for its young heiress, on behalf of a mysterious benefactor known as Gentleman. Sue is raised by Mrs. Sucksby, den mother to a family of thieves, or "fingersmiths." To repay Mrs. Sucksby's kindness, Sue gets involved in a scam but soon regrets it.

STORIES (Gaiman! Joyce Carol Oates! JOE FREAKIN HILL!):

This collection of 27 never-before published stories from an impressive cast sets out to shift genre paradigms. The overarching theme is fantasy used in the most broad-sweeping sense, rather than signaling the familiar commercial staples of elves, ghouls, and robots.

AN EXORCIST TELLS HIS STORY:

Renowned exorcist of Rome tells of his many experiences as an exorcist doing battle with Satan. Fr. Amorth allows the reader to witness the activities of the exorcist, to experience what an exorcist sees and does. He also reveals how little modern science, psychology, & medicine can help those under Satan's influence.

Yip! I'm so excited. *squirms* But I have to finish THE PASSAGE first. Cronin slammed me into a brick wall of BLEH when he opens the story WIDE open in the second section. Was not feeling that. At. All. Sigh. (Then I'm all, yikes! What must that feel like, to hear your readers complain about your work?) Course, plenty o folks luurrved it. Ah, well. The story's starting to go full circle now, at the beginning of the last third, so I hope it picks up.

Anyway. So what are you SO. FREAKIN. EXCITED. to read this month???

Anybody Need Encouragement?

2010-06-30T11:01:00.000-04:00

psst. Guys. Over here. *waves* Do you see that?? *points and nods while doing the Running Man*

GUYS!! According to that GIANT WHITE BOX THERE, I'm at goal. The goal I set for m'self back in January-!!

[::does a little dance that I copped from Cherie Priest::]
[::shakes it::]
[::shakes it::]
[::dances a lil more::]
[::pops and locks it once for good measure::]

Can you tell I'm STOKED???

yeah.

So, even though I'm not actually done with this last third of the book, and even though I'm gonna hafta recalibrate that word count goal, I'm feeling pretty encouraged. So encouraged, in fact, that I thought I'd spread it around a little!

If anyone out there could use a little encouragement, here's a fantastic little mantra I picked up from Chris Guillebeau's The Art of Non-Conformity blog:

A 4-Step Encouragement Mantra for the Journey

I can do it.
I could always have a regular life somewhere.
But I’ve chosen a different path.
And I won’t give up.

Pretty awesome stuff, right? Let's get goin' on these goals, y'all! w00t!

It's My Party And I'll Write If I Want To

2010-06-28T10:32:00.004-04:00

So, it's my berfday today! Huzzah!

Yep, it's dark in here, especially on my berfday. [Thanks to deviantart's Chatterly for being so damned gothic.] Cheers! *chinks together black flagons of bitter stout*

So, in honor of the day that brought forth into the world a dark, dark soul, I'd like to gather all of you into the dark with me for a moment. (No, you canNOT haz flashlight. Flashlights are for wussies.) Here. This might help with your transformation. It'll only hurt for a minute:

But no berfday is complete without cake. So here's some classic cakey goodness:

Okay, f!ck cake. No berfday is complete without PREZZIES. You know what mine is? I worked late Friday nite and all day Sunday on freelance schtuff so I could have the

MOST FUNKTASTIC DAY EVER TODAY!

Because that's the berfday present I've given myself. One entire day of unfettered freakin writing (well, that, an LED keyboard so I can finally haz not just letters on my keyboard, but glowing letters, and the game Alan Wake. Can I get a w00t w00t?)

So, off to unplug, drop my last Concerta and get to writing. I'm not finished with this MS like I'd wanted to be by this date, but I'll at least make some progress on this sucker today. I'll check in later to post the word count.

So happy day, my temporary darklings! Enjoy it!

Ooh-it! Ooh-it! That's Progress, Baby!

2010-06-25T11:03:00.004-04:00

Dudes. Check this out:

Holy shitake mushrooms. I'm in the 90 percents, y'all. Ninety percents! (Mind you, I'm ONLY beginning the last act of the book, though scenes are blocked out all the way until The End, which means I'll have to recalibrate the word count goal. Probably end up being 125K in the first draft - wayyy too long. But that's what revisions are for).

Meantime, I'm celebrating that milestone. That sucker's mine. And it's golden. And you know what helped me get to it this week?

1. Imogen Heap's "Hide and Seek" on repeat. Hypnotic, resonant, perfect for headphones n' writing.

2. Concerta. God bless mind-focusing drugs.

3. The Alliterative Allomorph, who challenged me to pay attention to my daily word counts. (Okay, so I only started yesterday. But at 2,045 words, it was a banner day. Thanks, Jessica!)

4. Steinbeck's advice to writers:

It is not so very hard to judge a story after it is written, but, after many years, to start a story still scares me to death. I will go so far as to say that the writer who not scared is happily unaware of the remote and tantalizing majesty of the medium... Y'ALL. Steinbeck was scared. There's hope for me!!

5. The daily routines of famous writers:

Of Kafka: It is rare that writers of fiction sit behind their desks, actually writing, for more than a few hours a day. Had Kafka been able to use his time efficiently, the work schedule at the Institute would have left him with enough free time for writing. As he recognized, the truth was that he wasted time. Y'ALL. Kafka wasted time. There's hope for me!!

6. Alan Rinzler's blog, which is just always chock full of helpful schtuff.

7. Stina's awesome blast of sunshine directed my way, in the form of a blog award, which I got to choose! (Thanks, Stina!) So, I'm choosing this one, and blasting y'all with its rays:

So, I officially bestow it on each and every one of my followers and friends. No, really, take it! It's yours. I'm serious! Now go and spread some sunshine with it :) Have a productive weekend, y'all. I'm planning to :D

GOAL!!

2010-06-23T09:56:00.000-04:00

This month's blog chain topic, courtesy of Danyelle (already answered so diligently by her, Laura, and Lydia) is about goals. Of course, my ultimate goal at present is to write THE END on the MS. Which would so totally feel like this:

She shoots, she SCORES! Ha! (No World Cup image for you >:-D)

But you can haz this image from Deviantart's oscarsnapshooter.

But, alas, that goal feels more like this:

Deviantart's p-3e took this pic of that poor, forlorn little goal. Sigh.

That's because DAMMIT! I'm facing down some heavy scenes - and sometimes my goal of finishing this got-damned story seems SO far away (ay-ayy-ayyyy), that it barely stands at all. This goal's all cracked, canted and chipped, forlorn and sagging...sorry. (My melancholia's a chattery sumbitch, isn't she?). Anyway, the upcoming scene's fulla some major, crunchy psychology, scuffed with action and glimmering with a handful of oily, eel-y secrets and, oh yeah, a demon. Which sounds like fun, but is, yanno, a bitch to write.

Sigh.

But thanks to everyone's words of support yesterday as I whined and wrung my hands (thanks, guys! SO needed that!), the word count continues to rise, and I'm working pretty hard at writing despite the doubt-hounds. So maybe a better goal would look something like this:

Aptly titled "Goal Within a Goal" by salari

Yep, that's a goal as spotted from the fraying net of another goal. For me, this perfectly represents the stages of writing. Just work toward one goal, but keep the next goal in your sights. I'm gonna keep trying that, y'all.

I'm also going to remember that the writing process is whacked out & loopy, rather like this:

from aniboom.com

So that's my other goal this week. To remember that writing is so subjective that no one's ever an expert. Including me. I just have trust the process.

What about you? Got a goal this week? Yeah? Let's hear it!

Time Keeps On Tickin...

2010-06-22T10:02:00.001-04:00

My husband has this pet peeve that involves one of my quirks. (Okay, he has several, the man's a saint for sticking around, etc.) Anyway, the peeve is how I constantly misjudge how long it'll take me to finish up a piece of writing. Not because he's anxious for me to finish, mind you - mainly it's because he's anxious to get. Out. The Door. and he's waiting on me.

Most times, he's waiting for me to finish up a press kit or a bit of copy for a brochure, or to polish, say, a pitch letter. Him: *jingles keys impatiently* Me: I just have to tweak this release. Just gimme five minutes. Five minutes.

TWENTY MINUTES LATER

Him: *sighs through his nose*
Me: *typity-typity-type-type-type* Almost done...
Him: *removes Kyle Busch cap, sets keys back down, knows he's not going anywhere*
Me: *guilty glance in his direction* No! Seriously, I'm almost done. No, I am. Really. Just five more minutes...
...

Thing is, I don't mean to take so long. Really, in my head, it only takes me, like, an hour to write up some copy. But in the real world, that hour is more like three hours, forty minutes.

And that worries me about my novel. WHY do I take so long? WHY do I write so slowly? And this chestnut: WHY do I feel like everyone else is freakin LEAGUES ahead of me? Because I do. I feel like other writers are just swimming away with their novels, already on their, like, fourth, while I plod through my second.

Sigh. Sigh. Sigh.

I'm trying to finish this thing up. I am. But I know just how far I have to go. And as I work through this draft, I'm trying to remember Lilith Saintcrow's Permission To Suck Method, which hopefully will help me get this f!cking draft done. (Quoth the Saintcrow, "Don’t worry about whether the writing is any good. Right now that’s the least important fucking thing on the planet. The MOST important thing is sitting down and getting the sh!t out, so that you can see where you are and correct your aim if you’re not where you want to be." Nice, right? Easy, right? Turns out, not so much. SILENCE, you Inner Editor! Silence!)

I'm also hoping Scott G.F. Bailey's approach to the sagging middle (basically: First Act=What happens, Second Act=How the characters feel about what happened [using internal conflict as a way to avoid the sag] and Third Act=The resolution) will help me finish. I'm using it as a general three-pronged approach to noveling as a whole:

1. Get the story down (first draft, i.e. what happens)
2. Layer in the psychology (second draft, i.e. how the characters feel about it)
3. Apply polish (third draft, i.e. tightening sentences, using precise language to better effect)

I'm still struggling with number one, y'all. Since my subplots heavily involve my character's secrets, I keep trying to figure out all of their psychology in this initial draft, which slows the whole freakin process. Somebody please help me remember that I just have to get the story DOWN first. Nailing the deeper psychological subtext/subplot comes NEXT. (Zoe, please remember that you don't have to get all the subplots right in the first pass. Got it?)

Ugh. I feel like my "wants-to-have-already-written" self is at the door, jingling her keys. And my "just-give-me-five-more-minutes" self is bent over the keyboard, feeling the pressure, thinking I can get it done in five minutes when my process is such that it takes, yanno, five HOURS.

Why does it take so long, dammit??

Leaving ON A Jet Plane

2010-06-17T10:24:00.001-04:00

I don't know when I'll be back again...

Actually, I'm leaving in a car, and I *do* know when I'll be back again (Monday). That's cuz it's time for the semi-annual roadtrip to see fam up in the D.C. urr-ea. Packing up the boys for a rousing 10 hours of "Mom, I'm carsick!" and "Dez is laying on me!" and "Gabriel won't stop whistling!" while I blissfully ignore them and my husband's insistence on late-80s hip-hop as driving music. (Actually, I love 80s hip-hop. But, yes, you CAN tire of the Beastie Boys and Public Enemy. Can't a sista get a little Imogen Heap??)

Anyway, I'll have my trusty copy of THE PASSAGE, which is going along swimmingly, and oh, say, FIVE egalleys to read on the laptop for S & S so's I can write some bang-up author press kits.

Which I have to somehow find the time to do, seeing as I'll be visiting with a sweet little gumdrop of a baby niece on Friday, then doing the Arlington Cemetery schlep (hi, dad!) Saturday and sweating my way through Six Flags on Sunday. With said boys, husband, mother, brother and said baby niece. Yeah.
We're gonna be that family.

You KNOW I'ma get some writing fodder from that, y'all.

Anyway, off I go. But instead of having keyboard cat play me out, I'll leave with a big ol THANK YOU! to Tessa, who bestowed upon me this lurvely award:

As per rules, I'm to thank the person who bestowed it upon a sista (thanks, Tessa!!) and let you in on seven things about me:

I'm a speed demon. No, it *is* my road. MY road!! And I *will* find a shortcut. (Take that, Mrs. Todd...)
I've just come to realize that I'm always gonna be a woman of appetite. If there's pizza, I'ma eat it.
I met Spike Lee once, and he was a butthead.
I live in the lethal, Technicolor jungle of bipolar disorder. And, yanno, I like it.
I just asked my sister-in-law to please come & comb my cat's ass while I'm away this weekend. (Hey, he's a Ragdoll. His ass is fluffa-geddon.)
I have a gap in my front teeth that you could drive a Mack truck through. But every time I use the V word (veneers) my 13-year-old son howls, "NOoooooo! I like your teeth!" Sigh.
I had to revamp my theory that the ultimate zombie getaway vehicle was the Herkimer Battle Jitney. Now, I have to grudgingly agree that it is, in fact, the Atlas Ball (#1, scroll down).

Instead of tagging 15 other bloggers as I'm 'posed to do with this award (lookout, she's a rogue, I tell you!), I'm going to tag seven - cuz, as Jack Bauer groans, "there's no TIME!"
Here they are:

Thanks again Tessa - and everyone, get out and live a little this weekend. Even if it includes 80s hip-hip. EsSPECIally if it involves 80s hip-hop. Word!

What Helped Me Get To It Today

2010-06-16T08:06:00.000-04:00

Don't forget to pop over to Danyelle's today to read her entry on goals. Okay. (#seguefail) Today I'm about trying to be the writer I am and not struggle so with the process. And you know what helped me? Something overheard on the Psych Central blogs:

Do what you can.

Want what you have.

Be who you are.

Amazingly simple, right? Not sure why those words helped me today, but they totally did. Turns out I can only do what I can (who knew?). I'm still working on wanting what I have - which includes a mostly-written MS (hey, I'm working on craft, no need to want what might be in the future, a la an agent or pub contract) and a pretty cool freelance gig (got a ton o Simon & Schuster press kits to write, yip!).

As for the third tenet, I'm always who I am these days, which is a nice perk of settling into your 30s. You know what also helped me today?

Tell me you aren't snarfing. Sigh. This is what I'm telling the next person who asks me where I get my ideas.

Making the Ordinary World Disappear

2010-06-14T10:35:00.000-04:00

So, I'm anxiously awaiting my copy of THE PASSAGE by Justin Cronin. Yes, it's a vampire novel, which I'm sorta sick of. But with crazy reviews, (including one from King, who says it "makes the ordinary world disappear" and TIME Magazine's "the vampire is scary again") I had to order it. I hope it's worth all the buzz.

So what, exactly, makes the ordinary disappear while you're reading a novel? For me, it's detail, depth and resonance. And how do we accomplish that? For me, it's being able to see people, really see them, and then translating what you understand into unforgettably real, unforgettably flawed, and unforgettably interesting characters. Preferably, ones who make terrifically bad decisions from time to time.

Here, in part three of the author's Amazon podcast, is Cronin talking about plots and people. And this is where I think he nails it, when it comes to making a story utterly engrossing: that plot and character happen simultaneously. As he puts it, "plot is a collection of decisions the characters make."

Which is a HUGE relief for me to hear, since I'm worried that the plot in my current horror novel is so character-centric. But what I hope makes the MS interesting hearkens back to a question Cronin asks (same podcast), which is, "What are the characters not telling anybody?"

I love this, because this is what drives my character-centric story forward - every one of my main characters is harboring a secret. Figuring out what they're hiding and how they use their secrets, what those secrets compel them to do in the midst of high emergency is what, for me, harbors the conflict, the mystery--it's what juices the book.

After all, as Cronin puts it, "knowing a character's secret ignites their humanity." Awesome. So what about you? What in the writing world gave you some extra confidence this past week? A particular book? Something an author said? Also, what books are you anxious to get your hot little hands on this week?

Things That Helped Me Write Today

2010-06-13T11:10:00.001-04:00

This is what helped me get started today:

http://writetodone.com/2010/05/29/get-writing-or-get-lost/

EDIT: I suspect this guy's links might help with the ol' productivity, too:
http://www.rockyourday.com/

So what helped you get it done today?

EDIT a DEUX: Here's the result of my early afternoon writing sesh:

77537 / 85000 words. 91% done!

91 PERCENT, y'all!!

Productivi-tee

2010-06-12T18:18:00.000-04:00

So. Distracting myself is a self-preservation tactic, right? Right. Blogging, blogfesting, surfing and, yanno, obsessively spot-steam-cleaning my living room carpet are all things that keep me from facing down the MIND. numbing terror that is any WIP (big ol' fear of failure here, folks). And I'm pret-ty darn good at distracting myself.

My distracted brain looks a lil something like this piece of digital art aptly titled DISTRACTION by GraphicStreetRacer.

Just a moment ago, my sidebar was chock full of blogfest goodness. Which was part of the problem. I gotta get this MS done, y'all. It's why I've been REALLLYYY behind on commenting, posting & blogfesting; I gotta get it DONE I tell you.

So, it is with ~~great sadness~~ a big ol' rebel yell warrior whoop...thing, that I say goodbye to the blogfests I'd planned to participate in this month (and possibly the whole summer) - and that includes my own.

I'm officially canceling the Cognitive Dissonance Blogfest on June 28.

Sorry, everyone who graciously signed up! :( I'm still, yanno, blogging n stuff - just not 'festing. Cutting back in other areas, too (see: obsessive spot-steam-cleaning).

I know my blogfest was to be in celebration of my birthday, but I'm hoping the cheers & beers on that day will be because I've written "The End" on the draft. To get me there, I'm pulling out all the tools in my arsenal, i.e. coffee, the Kaizers Orchestra standalone player, and the

It's this ridiculously simple timer from that Write to Done guy, and it's awesome, especially for blowing through some CWSwORP-style timed writing exercises.

So check it out and go get some writing done! Because it's all about facing the doubt-hounds

Image courtesy of SexyMarshmallowMan

that nip at our confidence and finishing what we started - with 60% LESS distraction! And we can do it, y'all. Watch; I'll go first. *waves, then unplugs for the rest of the day to wrap up Chapter Eighteen*

See Here, Now

2010-06-08T20:24:00.001-04:00

Writing is seeing. I came across this tidbit somewhere and, being me, promptly forgot where. But it stayed with me: Writing is seeing. It's seeing, y'all!

But seeing isn't easy...

We all know writers are observers. But it's not just a matter of opening your eyes. It's a matter of seeing past things, getting at hidden machinations, understanding the context of what's unfolding before your eyes. Say you're trying to capture a scene that recalls a childhood summer. Sure, you have to see it in your mind's eye. (Duh.)

But the trick is to understand WHAT elements to focus on (sandy sandwiches? Your mom's big old laugh rippling across the beach?). Also, HOW they're evocative (The texture of the sandwich's sun-softened, tepid, kinda nasty cheese? The chink of ice settling in your mom's Tab soda glass?)

And, finally, WHY that specific element captures enough of a truth to resonate with the reader (sandy sandwiches representing the freedom from school lunchtime? The near desperate way mothers would finally relax--now that the fathers were all safely back in the city and, yanno, unaware that it probably wasn't Tab soda in her glass?).

Clearly, Deviantart's blindedangel knew how to see. Look at how evocative this is.

Get it? It's all in what you see -- and then what you spot behind what you see. Of course, the second half is the ability to get it down right, and that takes, yanno, writing chops. But seeing is the critical part, I think, because

...Seeing is believing.

And verisimilitude is what makes a story come alive. See?

Caturday Wisdom

2010-06-05T16:18:00.000-04:00

Man, as soon as I hop over to icanhazcheeseburger, I spot this pic front and center at the top of the page. What makes it even MOAR snarf-worthy is that I was looking for an image that would capture how I feel at the moment.

And how do I feel at the moment? Powered-down, because I've put in the writing time this afternoon and now it's time to quit and go live for the day - EVEN while the right ending to this one scene I was working on continues to elude me. See, I can quit guilt-free since I know my seething little box of horror'll be there when I get back (toldja; that image nailed it). How do I know this? Silly minion, THIS is how I know:

75314 / 85000 words. 89% done!

That's about 2K more words written inside of one afternoon - an afternoon that comes hot on the chapped, ugly cracked heels of YESTERDAY, in which I was sure my muse had abandoned me forever. But I powered up the MS anyway this afternoon and, lo and behold, I touched 75,000 words, y'all! Now that I'm a measly 10K words (10,000 words! Gasp!) from meeting goal, I can safely stuff my evil muse back into the box for the day - knowing it'll be there when I get back - and go enjoy my Saturday shenanigans.

So where do you store your muse?

I think I'ma keep mine in that thar cardboard box, right under my desk. *kicks it and laughs at Grumpy Muse's angry shuffling inside*

Now go store your muse and then enjoy your weekend. DO put in some time today. But DON'T spend the whole afternoon endlessly tweaking Chapter Eight. (Trust me on that one.) Put the muse away instead and go live a little. It'll be there when you get back. One caveat (and there's always a caveat, isn't there?): Be sure you do get back to it, even on the weekends (yes, I'm looking at YOU there, with the tee-shirt), so you don't forget where you stashed it. Cheers!

Stranger than fiction...

2010-06-04T19:00:00.001-04:00

See that ugly sucker? Yeah. Turns out it's a giant coconut crab. And it's not alone:

Mmm-hmm, not sure if I'd be smiling. Fo realz. I'd be looking around for a flamethrower. I hate crabs. You know why? Cuz they look like fucking spiders. OF THE SEA. (And yes, I've seen giant spider crabs. Giant fucking 'bamas.) I'm talkin' flamethrowers, y'all. Flamethrowers.

Anyone else having a did-a-chick? dod-a-chock? moment?

Oh, and these photos came from THIS blog.

Anywho, apparently these crabstrosities are all over the southwestern Pacific islands...which was NOT great news for Amelia Earhart, turns out. (Like, gross.)

But you know what bums me out? That horrifying creatures such as those do not exist naturally in my imagination. No. I have to WRACK MY BRAINS to come up with the good, shamblin', scary ones, while trying EQUALLY hard to NOT be DERIVATIVE. (But I'm not bitter. No.)

So imagine my chagrin when I happened upon the pics of those suckers. Sigh. IMAGINE the freakin' horror stories I could come up with if such creatures populated my brain. And even scarier, imagine the SITUATIONS I could create.

Unfortch, scientists are thinking that Earhart met her end in one such horrific scenario. Alone, hungry and desperate on an uninhabited island, yet only 300 miles from her destination. Oh, wait. She wasn't alone. She had her navigator.

AND AN ENTIRE ISLAND FULL OF THOSE FREAKIN' BONE-EATING CRABS.

Night, y'all.

Ultimate Interview - with Jessica Bell!

2010-06-03T06:00:00.003-04:00

GUYS! Guess what? It's time, y'all! It's time! My Ultimate Interview Contest, held to celebrate reaching 100 followers, was all about featuring one awesome writer/blogger in an interview - with questions asked by (and linked to) other bloggers. Y'all gave some GREAT responses and also helped me pick the winner, which was extra helpings of awesomesauce all around.

So, without further ado, I'm excited to welcome said winner, Jessica Bell, whom we all know as the riotous

Alliterative Allomorph!

Yep, that lovely lass is our own Alliterative Allomorph, who, besides being the winner of the Ultimate Interview Contest, also lives in Athens, Greece (how freakin' cool is that??) after growing up in Melbourne, Australia. The offspring of two gothic rock musicians who took her along as they moseyed between Australia and Europe, Jessica is also a helluva musician in her own right.

Her ability to write music soon stimulated an enthusiasm for literature that blossomed during her years at Latrobe University and ensuing career as an editor. In 2007, Jessica left her post at an English language teaching publisher to go it alone as a freelancing writer/editor who works for Cengage Learning, Macmillan Education, Education First, Pearson/Longman and Signature Manuscripts. In addition to her freelance and musical projects, Jessica is also working on a novel and a memoir while she seeks agent representation for her novel, DEAD IN THE CORNER OF MY BEDROOM.

Her other hidden skill? The ability to come up with some intense freakin questions! Hers was the winning interview question, which went a lil something like this:

Q. Have you ever gotten sexually excited after writing a love scene and then acted upon it?

A. Well, I’m sorry to have to break it to you, but the only love scene I wrote ended in the female protagonist finding out that her husband was having an affair, so unfortunately by the end of that scene any arousal was dampened. (boo!) But I will admit to getting in the mood before writing the scene (I’ll let your imagination fill in the details) … well it’s gotta be realistic, right? Hahaha, sorry, is that a disappointing answer? (Boo! Again!)

[Zoe interrupts to say that the "boos" are Jessica's, not mine :D. Although I'll give it a "dammit!" because I was hoping for some saucy stuff!!! *hauls mind, dripping and stinky, out of the gutter*]

Okay, folks! The rest of the interview questions come courtesy of the bloggers whose questions got the highest response in my contest question poll:

Q. From Roland Yeomans at Writing in the Crosshairs: When the room is dark and your heart says 'give up', whose voice do you hear next, and what does it say?

A. My mother’s. Through all her difficulties surviving benzodiazepine withdrawal when I was a kid, she still managed to drill ‘If there’s a will there’s a way’ into my head practically every day. For a mother who was never in the right frame of mind, she did a pretty damn good job of pushing me in the right direction. Yes, I strayed for a while, but eventually pulled myself together. So I guess my mother is responsible for both my rebellion and getting my priorities straight. She was an awfully brave woman, and she is living proof that if there’s a will there’s a way. If you knew what she went through, you’d understand, but it’s a REALLY long explanation.

Q. From Shannon Messenger at Ramblings of a Wannabe Scribe: Orlando Bloom - sexier as a pirate or an elf? (and why?)

A. You’ve got to be kidding me. I don’t see any sexual attraction to him whatsoever. As a pirate he reminds me of an ex-boyfriend of mine - obviously ‘ex’ for a reason. As an elf, he reminds me of a wannabe metal head too embarrassed to go whole hog with the black make-up. I’m a Johnny Depp gal from a very young age :) - from the age where I would stick socks in my top to impress Mr. Depp, who was pinned up on my wardrobe.

Q. From Lydia Kang at The Word Is My Oyster: Who would you NOT want reading your shiny new novel?

A. LOL. Um, my ex employers. I don’t say very nice things about them. But that’s totally my protagonist’s opinion, not mine! (wink wink)

Q. From Courtney Barr at Southern Princess: Is there any subject that disturbs you so much that you WON'T write about it? If so, why?

A. Not that I’m aware of. I haven’t tried to write anything disturbing to that degree. Mind you, I’m having difficulty with my memoir at the moment because I slip into a state of depression I just don’t want to be in. I think my memoir is going to take a VERY VERY long time. My memoir is primarily about growing up with a drug addicted (and rock musician) mother and how her addiction and eventual never-ending drug withdrawal basically prevented me leading what most would call a ‘normal’ childhood. Hate going back to that place. But it is a very interesting story and I hope that one day I can get it done. [Zoe interrupts again: damn I want to read that! Sound like one compelling story. Kudos to Jessica for being brave enough to face it!]

Q. From Justine Dell at...Justine Dell: Tell us about the time when you almost gave up.

A. Um, regarding writing? I haven’t yet. I’ve been pushing myself for five years now, and I’m still determined. But I did almost give up living when I was a teenager and wanted to be free of my mother. But I could write a whole book about that (probably why I am), so you’ll just have to wait till I get published. Can you wait twenty years? LOL

On a happier note … Who wants Zoe to answer these questions as well? A show of hands please … Ok, let me count … Wow, Zoe, looks like there’s over a hundred hands here … :D

[Zoe's comment: uh...I'mma get back to y'all on that one, lol!]

But there you have it! Some really awesome interview questions + a whole rack of awesome bloggers = so much fun! Jessica, thanks so much for stopping by (that golden flash drive's in the mail tomorrow I SWEAR, lol)!

Also thanks so SO much to everyone for participating - this was one of my favorite blog moments, ever. So thanks for becoming followers and supporting my blog - I'm truly humbled and grateful. Remember, folks, keep payin' it forward - you never know what lonely writer you might comfort with a comment :D Thanks!!

HOUSEkeeping--!!

2010-06-02T17:05:00.001-04:00

Crikey. LOOK at this place! *grabs dust pan, broom and a bucket of cleaner, starts humming "two hours of pushing broom..."* Okay, all Roger Miller aside, wouldja look at this mess! After the cuh-razy party that was my 100 Followers Contest, I gotta get this place in shape! You know why??

Because the awesome Jessica Bell,

a.k.a. The Alliterative Allomorph,
is coming over tomorrow!!

That's right! The winner of the Ultimate Interview Contest,
she'll be answering some CRAZY questions
on my blog tomorrow.

OMG - grabs armfuls of empty beer cans, pulls streamers from hair, shoves chairs back under tables, tears toilet paper from that one tree outside...

Wow. This is gonna take a bit more work. Which means I'm gonna make like my mum and kick all you kids outside so I can get some WORK done! Outside, y'all. Out! *points to the back door while giving y'all the hairy eyeball*

Now THAT is one hairy eyeball. Ahem.

Okay, okay. I hear ya: "But there's nothing to do outside!" (I'm not a mom for nothing.) Here are some links to keep you occupied until the fabulousness of tomorrow's interview and guest feature with Jessica. Enjoy, then be sure to mosey on over here to read Jessica's answers to some off-the-wall questions. On to linkage:

First, it's Sisterhood of the Traveling Blog Time! Don't forget to stop by Laura Diamond's blog today to read her take on identifying and then nailing those important goals.

Next, since I'm all a-struggle with my own goals, I found Steve Pavlina's blog posts on self-discipline to be marvels of productivity.

I also found Wyrdsmith's blog today. Some great posts, y'all.

And, finally, get thee to toplessrobot.com, for ultra-awesome-why-can't-I-be-that-cool stuff like a Ghostbusters proton pack backpack. Yes, I'm serious.

And, oh yeah, if those don't do it for ya, there's always THIS:

Dudes! 81 frikkin percent, yo! Turns out, being largely unplugged from the blogosphere means, yanno, I actually get the words down. Sweet! But I WILL be back tomorrow to post

Jessica's Ultimate Interview!

So be sure to stop by. See you then!

CONTEST WINNERS !

2010-05-29T17:26:00.000-04:00

We have a winner of the ULTIMATE BLOG INTERVIEW CONTEST! Held to celebrate reaching 100(+!) followers, the contest is a pay-it-forward kinda deal, since bloggers helping bloggers is what brought in all of my friendly, awesome follower-friends. Thanks!!! The grand prize? Being interviewed rightchere on this blog and snagging a gold flash drive. Everyone who commented on the poll's post also got entered to win a $10 BN.com e-gift card, so 'twas fun all around.

Picking the winner wasn't easy, since there was a TIE (of course of all the blog contests, mine would have the freakin' tie) between (drum rolls) Jessica Bell at The Alliterative Allomorph and Roland Yeomans at Writing In The Crosshairs. (Great questions, guys!)

But I had to pick just one, y'all. One.

Since everyone thought they had the two best interview questions, giving each 14% of the vote, I decided to go flip a coin

over at Random.org. And I'm proud to announce the winner of the Ultimate Blog Interview Contest is

who asked,

"Have you ever gotten sexually excited after writing a love scene and then acted upon it?"

Otherwise known as The Alliterative Allomorph, or That Chick Who Asks Really Freakin Intense Questions, Jessica will be featured on this blog in a guest interview, in which she'll be asked THAT QUESTION (we're all blushing!!) along with the other top five questions. Jessica also wins that nifty golden flash drive so she can back-up her AB-so-lute-ly golden WIP (laws, I hope that sucker gets here from China soon :/) Anyway, congrats, Jessica! Send me your email address at zoe (dot) courtman (at) gmail (dot) com and I'll respond with the six questions (so you can be prepared) and so we can figure out when to post your interview :D

And, lest we forget, we ALSO have a commenter winner who gets the $10 BN.com e-gift card, which ALSO helps us pay it forward since we're keeping the book lurve going to whatever author the winner lurves. Chosen by my list of commenter names and Random.org, THAT lucky winner is:

w00t!

That thar novel over on the left is how Alex rocks the sci-fi genre, in addition to being a gamer and guitarist to boot. Check him out at www.alexjcavanaugh.blogspot.com. Congrats, dude!

Thanks also to everyone for following my blog, no matter how incoherent, and participating. Y'all make it easier to be a writer. Thanks! So much fun, y'all!

Pick a Winner, Win Something Yourself :D

2010-05-27T11:06:00.003-04:00

YOU'RE

IN THE HOT SEAT.

Choose wisely, my friends.

Time's UP! Pencils (and, yanno, guns) down. All of the interview questions are in - and, BOY, y'all are an imaginative bunch. Below are all of the most intriguing interview questions y'all could think of, and

you, yes YOU, have to pick the winner.
but, uh...no fair picking your own question. Then we'd have no real winner. :/

Using my handy dandy poll below, just pick the question you like the most - and you can only pick one.When voting's done (11:59 p.m. on May 28 - that's tomorrow, folks, watch me-I move quick!), we'll see which six were the most popular. The person whose question gets the most votes wins a nifty blog interview rightchere, folks, courtesy of the six questions (all linked to the people who axed 'em, natch) along with a golden flash drive.

This one:

Plus-plus-plus, one comment on THIS POST wins a $10 Barnes & Noble gift card. (Extra entry if you RT this post, too; put your RT link in your comment.)
Random.org picks, you win.

Cuz I'm awesome like that.

So are you ready? Then:

VOTE!!

Quizzes by Quibblo.com

Photograph at top of post by amuse at Deviantart

Now that you're done, Kaizers Orchestra will play us out. Hands down, this Norwegian band's got the best absinthe-and-dirty-fingernails sound I've ever heard. Or, yanno, the ONLY absinthe-and-dirty-fingernails sound I've ever heard. But it's the perfect hey-I'm-writing-demons music. Hit it, guys!!

Take on THIS A-Ha Moment!

2010-05-26T13:35:00.004-04:00

This is kind of a sprawling post. But if you stick with it, there's a reward at the end :D

So, it's my turn to take on the a-ha! moment (see Laura, Danyelle and Lydia's answers, too). And you know I can't take on an a-ha! moment without THIS, y'all:

That's my a-ha! moment. No, I'm serious. See, I'm kinda burned out on online writing advice. Cuz it's like a sandstorm. Which, aside from, yanno, blinding a sista, tends to scour my hide (ouch, dammit!).

See, all those glittery bits of writing insight make sense. They do make a point. But those points are sharp, and they tend to callus a sista, which blunts their effect over the long term (kind of how I'm bludgeoning this point to death rightchere). Truly, we don't need any more advice, cuz we already know what to do (no, we do!).

Maybe that's my a-ha! moment. That your own advice is all you need; it's the spark behind your endeavors. But before you can heed it, you need to understand how your particular spark burns in the first place.

Yep, flames again. Cuz I love 'em.

To do this, just think back to that one a-ha! moment you had as a teenager back in high school. It was that faint glimmer you spotted within yourself that day in the cafeteria, in the band room, on the athletic field. The one that whispered to you, THIS is who I am. Guess what? It's the same spark that burns there now.

You just gotta spot it, and then follow it.

That's it. Seriously. It will show you the way.

I was reminded of the color of my spark this morning, actually. Two posts - the Alliterative Allomorph's and Elana & Co.'s What Writers Read - got me talking about Clive Barker's IMAJICA and the impact it had on me.

(And by impact, I mean impact: the title of that sucker's tattooed on my right bicep).

My teenaged a-ha! moment was that my spark is obsidian black, sure. But if you peer at it with off-kilter eyes, you'll see that my flame also dances with color. Maybe cerulean. And it's IMAJICA's fault.

Because IMAJICA made me understand that my fiction sensibilities lie in that smoky, tangled, atmospheric wood where darkness also scampers alongside the fantastic. True, you never saw me in a high school corridor without a big ol' Stephen King book (gah, I remember carting around THE STAND like it was a freakin' weapon. 'Tho, truly, at 800+ pages, it coulda bludgeoned a sucka) tucked under my arm.

And THIS is the cover of the sucka I toted around with me.

But the author that left a permanent mark on me (see: tattoo) was Barker. It's how I know I'm not a splatterpunk horror kind of chick. True, you'll find darkness, death and evil in IMAJICA, but it's shot through with the wicked perfume of the fantastic, which lends grace to my particular blend of darkness.

And I need grace - even if it's twisted. Which is why it's my favorite book of all time. So go pick it up. Immerse yourself in it. You might find your own a-ha moment in its pages. And if you don't, that's also cool. Cuz that might be your moment, too.

Ya with me? 'Course not; you're with YOU. So go with it, homes. Take your advice. You know what to do.

P.S. Hey, you made it! Thanks for reading this long post.

Here's Reward #1:

Now you can SMELL like literary greatness!

And here's Reward #2:
"It was the pivotal teaching of Pluthero Quexos, the most celebrated dramatist of the Second Dominion, that in any fiction, no matter how ambitious its scope or profound its theme, there was only ever room for three players."

It's the opening line of IMAJICA. And below is some of Barker's art.

Don't say I never did anything fuh ya :D

Caturday Wisdom

2010-05-25T13:11:00.000-04:00

A friendly reminder to myself:

Don't choke your story with too many subplots, just for the sake of drama. Cuz it could become melodrama, and no one wants any of that (trust me). Raise the stakes, sure - just raise 'em responsibly :D
That is all.

A Blogfest For Me Berfday

2010-05-23T11:49:00.009-04:00

EDIT: Blogfest now canceled due to some voracious, snarling creatures that have begun to close ranks around me...

As usual, when it came to the decision to host a blogfest, I was of two minds. One, I wanted to do something fun for zee berfday, which happens to be June 28. And B, I remember being intrigued by the idea of a cognitive dissonance (don't panic, the explanation is below) blogfest. I think, somehow, that Roland was involved in this conversation. Anyway, being of two minds, the natural answer was to present ye olde:

and do it just in time for my birthday. Rules iz simple, yo:

Sign your name ~~across my heart~~ below in the linky widget by June 28th.
Tell somebody about it, if you're so inspired. Dudes. I love link lurve!
Write your cognitive dissonance scene - I toldya, the explanation is beneath the linky thing.
Post your scene on June 28th, remembering to link back here in said scene post.
Hop your twisted minds back here on June 28th to read and comment on everyone's entries.
Make like Lady MacBeth and wash your hands to rid yourselves of all that cog diss anxiety :)

Wait - what's that, you ask? What in tarnation is cognitive dissonance? Oh, that's easy. It's just the "discomfort when self-image collides with reality." Like, you tell a lie but believe you're basically an honest person and now you're all skeeved out. Or you want something you'll never have - and have anxiety over it.

Or, say you're like me, a commie liberal. Say you're also, like me, a freelance writer/editor who does press kits for a coupla Simon & Schuster and Little, Brown imprints.

One day, you're asked to write up a press kit for a right wing pastor who basically calls Obama the Anti-Christ. You don't want to be a sell-out. But you value your clients and your raging objectivity. So you do a BANG. UP. FREAKIN. JOB. on the kit, and now must live with the little fishtail of anxiety that wiggles in your stomach. Yep, m'dears, that's cognitive dissonance. FUN STUFF, right?

I hope so. And in case you didn't click on my Terence Trent D'Arby link above, you must now be subjected to his 80s loveliness as punishment for your disobedience. What, you like Terence but feel guilty because you have an image to maintain? Ah, yes. Cog diss, man. Cog diss.

Watch Me Tip Withoutcha!

2010-05-20T18:55:00.004-04:00

LOVE that line (my blog post title) because it's all about doin' your thang no matter who's watching. Also dig that line because it's from "Tightrope," a new single by this future soul artist I'm diggin' on at the moment, Janelle Monae.

And doin' my thang I am indeed. So while I'm busy tippin' on it this week, I'll leave you with Ms. Monae's kick-ASS video. Along with this comPLETEly unrelated link--since it's Donald Maass waxing knowledgeable about writing and such, I just had to include it.

If you're like me, just watching other artists burn it up in their respective disciplines is inspiring as hell. So, I'ma do my best to burn up that word count. After all, it's

And here's my word count for today:

I'm on FAHR, y'all! FAHR! Cuz that looks suspiciously like the home stretch to me. Anyway, how are you doing on your goals this week? Be on fire, y'all, and keep on tippin' without 'em!

A Mental Retreat

2010-05-17T18:43:00.001-04:00

Happy Monday, y'all. How did it go, this beginning of the week thing? Did you feel productive, ready to start a new week of work and writing? Oh, boy did I ever. But I'll tell you 'bout that in a sec.

First: don't forget to enter my 100 Follower Contest! All ya gotta do is put an interesting/off-the-wall interview question in the comments of that post (link's below the image). Winner gets featured in said interview on my blog, and gets a nifty golden flash drive! (Contest ends May 27th)

Click here to get your entry on and win that flash drive I keep on about.

Second: I'm going largely unplugged this week on account of my handy-dandy

I'm taking a little mental writer's retreat and working daily like them finga's iz on FAHR! My goal is to get this WIP as close to "The End" as possible by Friday. The rules of this mental writer's retreat?

1.
Pretty self-explanatory, right?

2.
No peeking at past chapters or revising while writing. All forward momentum, babay.

That's it! Simple - and effective. See?

That thar's my word count for today, up about a grand since last count. I might plug back in just to post my progress; we'll see. But while I'm gone, have a chuckle with Doug Clegg's awesome little e-book:

20 Tips for Writers by Douglas Clegg

So, what about you? Got any big production plans this week?

Flirt Scene Blog Fest

2010-05-16T11:57:00.002-04:00

First, don't forget to put your most interesting interview question you can think of in the comments of my 100th Follower Contest post. Winner gets featured in said interview on my blog, and gets a nifty golden flash drive :)

But now it's

Blog Fest Time!

Here's my entry for Critique This WIP's Flirt Scene Blogfest. Pop on over and read the other entries, whydoncha -- they're hot! Below is just a lil som'thin som'thin I put together for this little event:

###

Karen crashed her way inside the hauler, fingers already clawing the neck strap of her firesuit away from her throat. After her noisy clamber up the metal steps, the silence drew her up short. She curled her fingers into the padding of her helmet, dangling it from her fingertips like her crew chief's name dangled from her lips. "Lude?" Karen said. "What's going on?"

Silence curled around her like the gloom of the racing hauler. And that's when she became aware of his eyes--and the warning in them. Lude had backed up against the bathroom door at the opposite end of the vehicle, nearly lost in the shadows that yawned around him. But she could see his eyes. They flickered from her to another point in the darkness and back again. She turned, saw Claire, Lude's 10-year-old daughter, the lower half of her pale face covered with the brown fingers of Karen's assistant. They both crouched between the leather couch and the small dining table.

Karen stared at her assistant. "Terri?" But the woman only allowed the barest movement of her head, nodded at something behind Karen. Karen squinted at her, not understanding. Then she felt a pair of hands draw her backwards; she snapped her head around to see Gordon Walker, the reporter from The State. He put a finger to his lips and drew her against him. His heart was a trip-hammer against her back.

"Quiet," he murmured, his voice a warm tremor in her ear. "Look." Gordon eased the trailer door open an inch. The early Thursday morning light drew a silver rectangle around the door. Outside, Pit Row was just coming to life--they'd made it a point to pull into Darlington at o'dark-thirty so Karen Lemmings could whip up some much-needed mojo before qualifiers on Friday. She'd just started to feel it coming back, Lude's new suspension like genius on wheels, when the first black circle had appeared.

A series of strange, metallic pops now ruptured the silence of the track -- a silence Karen hadn't noticed when she zoomed into Pit Row with panic trailing her like a tattered caution flag. From the corner of her eye, she'd spotted the second enormous circle as she rode the high bank of the turn, the grass collapsing in on itself to create a thirty-foot O of darkness beyond the fencing of the RV camping area. She'd wiggled from the number 12 Lady Gillette car, shoved through most of her confused pit crew and clambered up into the hauler, Lude's name on her lips.

But now, she felt Gordon's fingers tighten around her upper arms as another giant circle fell away in the center of the track. Cries went up like a flock of startled birds. Karen pushed her back against Gordon's chest, forcing him backward. The door swung shut. The gray light curdled the darkness of the trailer, and she had to wait for her eyes to adjust. But she felt Gordon, felt his heart, came aware of the stacked muscles of his chest in a primordial way--the solidness of the man behind her spoke to the vaporous panic escaping from her. "And here I was thinking there were earthquakes last night," he murmured against her hair.

When her eyes adjusted, she found Lude's glance locked onto hers. His terrified expression told her that he'd seen the circles appearing, too - but the flatness in his eyes told her he'd seen what she'd done with Gordon the night before. "Are you serious?" Karen whispered. "You're flirting with me now?"

Gordon's stubbly chin grizzled against her cheek. "When it comes to you, I'm always serious," he murmured. "Even with some crazy shit going on."

"What is going on?" This from Lude, who, either spurred by the chaos outside or the chaos in his heart, had advanced part way up the hall toward them.

"Where are your cans?" Karen hissed at Lude, pointing at her ears. "See if you can hear what's going on."

"I know where your cans are," Gordon chuckled.

"If you don't stop right now--" Karen whispered. But her hips, on fire under the heat of his palms, held no such protest.

The Ultimate Interview Contest!!

2010-05-13T10:32:00.003-04:00

OMG, y'all! Lookit! *points to Follower widget thingie* That's 100 followers! On the nose!

Dudes. From Laura Diamond's ultra-awesomeness, which was how I really got on my way (thanks, Laura!) to my blog chain chicas (Laura, Lydia & Danyelle), to friends like CipherQueen who gave me my first award and lovelies like Jaydee Morgan who gave me my most recent (below), reaching 100 followers has been a total hug-fest. First off, a big

THANK YOU!!!

Next, we have Jaydee's award. Look! This must mean I get to sit at the cool kids' table!! Thanks, Jaydee!

And finally, you just can't reach 100 followers without a contest. So I introduce you to:

Since I'm all about the networking and support, the contest is all about featuring the winner on my blog in a guest interview (you also get this nifty golden flash drive):

The reasons I chose this partick'lar contest? 1) Most of us are aspiring authors, so we need practice at this blog interview stuff. 2) I hate reading author interviews that always ask the same lame-o questions (seriously? "Where do you get your ideas?" Blergh.) and 3) Your work is golden - you TOTALLY need a golden flash drive. Wait - you are remembering to back up your work, right? Riigghht??

EDIT: I've been reading some really great posts on contests lately, some of which hint at bloggers getting "follow" fatigue. So, how bout we make this easier? No follow or RT requirements. Just:

1. Leave the most imaginative/interesting interview question you can think of in the comments

2. Together, we'll pick the six most awesome questions

3. From those, Random.org will pick the winner

4. Winner gets featured and interviewed here via the remaining 5 questions (each linked to the blogger who asked it) along with the shiny shiny (a.k.a. the golden flash drive. Ooh! I feel like Willy Wonka!!!)

So, let's hear the questions you've always wished someone would ask your favorite author (I've always wanted to ask Stephen King how you pronounce "ayuh." 'Course, when I actually met the man, I froze up and then cried all over him. Ahem. So if anyone out there's from Maine, help a sista out?) Here's to more interesting interviewing - and spreading the networking lurve. Contest ends May 27th. Thanks to all my followers and good luck!

Tips from What I'm Reading - The 50,000-ft. View

2010-05-12T12:06:00.002-04:00

First, check out Lydia Kang's a-ha! moment as part of the Sisterhood of the Traveling Blog chain :) Missed last week's? Then mosey over to Laura Diamond's blog to see her response.

Now. I just finished Douglas Clegg's NEVERLAND. Oh boy. Wow. Resonant. Atmospheric as hell.

Ain't heard of no Gull Island in Georgia? Turns out, you don't hafta, on account of Clegg's evocative-as-hell writing. Not only will you have visited it thoroughly when you're done reading, you'll know that damned island as if it were you and not Beau who summered there.

It's loaded with sentences like this: He had mood swings the way Uncle Ralph had cans of beer: one after the other, no matter the time of day.

And this: I remember summers on Gull Island as being all begrudging mornings and afternoons that went on forever like a school day: hot and sticky and smelling like a stagnant pond. Ooh, lovely, right?

But the one that struck me was a plain one. This: The rest of the island was in a state of panic.

As readers, we're buzzing around Gull Island with the main character, 10-year-old Beau, in scenes like that from which the above line was taken. As Beau moves through this particular scene, he's overwhelmed by an onslaught of sensations - slashing rain, igniting trees, relatives squabbling, family secrets popping open like gas-bloated corpses - which place us squarely within his experience. And it's awesome.

But while we're being shelled by Beau's sensory bombs, Clegg also rears back to give us the 50,000-ft. view of the scene - to show what's going on around it, and away from it.

Yeah, it was a minor lightbulb moment for me, so? I tend to come late to obvious things. Sue me.

It just reminded me to pull back--pull back whydoncha--and do a flyover of the terrain of a scene as I wade through it. See, I tend to go deep POV when I'm writing. And while it allows for some great immediacy, it also presents some serious tunnel vision.

So, thanks NEVERLAND for reminding me to pull back--pull back whydoncha--every so often to see the 50,000-ft view of the scene's terrain. Mind, I'm not talking about the plot line or the book as a whole (we all need to back up so's we can see that whole thing). I'm talking about pulling back to see the larger whole of the scene's environs.

Next time you're writing, say, a scene in a house, pull back and think about what's going on outside. Out on the highway. Upstairs in the attic. Out in the side yard. What's going on with that truck parked down the hill. The hissed argument between the girls on the swing. You don't have to include all of this, but still think about it. Consider what's going on while your character is moving inside the house.

Not only does it give some good context, but taking a look at the larger environs of a scene might also offer up some additional story seeds that can germinate in later chapters.

Plastic or Paper?

2010-05-11T13:14:00.000-04:00

Y'all. I sniff pages like hedge-fund managers sniff money. You've seen me. I'm that person tucked away in Borders' (teeny little freaking) horror section, casting a furtive sniff over newly-opened pages. Inhaling that bookey smell over in the lit fic. Trailing my fingers across the dust-jackets fanned out on the New Release tables. Deftly applying the first thumb prints to the shiny shiny covers. Sighing at the chock a book makes when it slides home on the shelf.

You know, holding the books. Feeling their heft.

Touching a tangible literary product.

And I may not be able to stop. Hi, my name's Zoe, and I can't stop touching the booksies. (Hi, Zoe.)

Which is a problem in this looming age of Kindles, Nooks and iPads. Not wanting to be a literary Luddite forever, I marched right up to an ereader in that self-same Borders and played with it. Oohed. Huh-ed. Flicked digital pages. Pursed my lips and raised my eyebrows in that enh-okay-so-it's-not-so-bad thing I do.

And promptly left the device where it was, called back into the stacks by those smells. Those sounds. All that, yanno, weight. Which makes me wonder at the product-ness of books today. There's something about a stack of my printed pages that make me feel all gooey and productive. And as that stack grows, my sense of satisfaction grows. But when there are no pages to watch--? Will I feel the same way? Will it be as cool to see my work all backlit and digital on an iPad as it will be to hold the thing in my hands?

The discussion went back and forth in my head, kind of like this:

And I'm still not sure, dammit. So what about you? Which would give you more satisfaction in terms of seeing your finished product? Or would it come in equal measure from a Nook as from, yanno, a physical book?

Back in Black

2010-05-10T15:07:00.000-04:00

The doldrums. I haz them.

Although it's a pretty normal state for me - one somewhere between Soul Crushing Melancholia, Population: Me and the Black Saturnine Wastes of Existence, Population: Me - it's also a state that happens to be completely detrimental to things like writing. Or, yanno, blogging (did you miss me?)

Or functioning in any recognizable way.

BUT. Luckily for me, there exist two things:

1) First, this lovely piece by the GaGa, who'll play us in:

Listen! GaGa Is Full Of emLove/em

2) And second: The lovely, life-saving phenomenon of Those Posts Which Have Been Created Sorta In Advance. Which, now that GaGa has played us in, I shall commence (and, being dark in nature, it fits with my rather churlish mood):

#SEGUEFAIL

Yanno, the ways in which we purposely thwart ourselves amazes me. Take me, for example. I read recently that people generally find blogs with dark backgrounds harsh on the eyes (though, thanks to my friend Lisa, I realized that's mainly when the contrasting text is, like, lime green or, worse, gray). So I changed mine, found a happy, cheerful, bright template and went with it.

And promptly spasmed into an anxiety of hellish proportions. Because, dudes. If the preamble to this post didn't alertcha, I have to let you know that I'm dark.

I'M DARK AS HELL.

Seriously? As I recalled to some friends recently, I used to tell my Goth peeps that I didn't need to wear black clothes because my SOUL (spoken in Alan Rickman's voice, natch) was black enough.

If I were any darker, and had that cool-ass voice, and was, yanno, a dude, I'd be Snape.

Did I also mention that I'm unusually, weirdly sensitive to my environment? I am. Let the sun slice just so through a Tuesday afternoon and I'm jacked for the entire day.

You know why these guys are so freakin GRIM? It's the weird fucking sun.I'm telling you. No one could be smiley with that sallow ocher awfulness behind them.

Nope, I'm not kidding and yep, it's weird. Turns out, that environment also includes my blog. Which is back to reflecting me in all my dark loveliness. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some life-draining lugubriousness to attend to...*slinks away into shadow*