Relocated

We made it from Texas to Pennsylvania in 4 days’ time.  We had set out for 3, but got a very late start on day one, and my night vision makes driving very difficult at the best of times.

We’ve been here for just over a month now and the coffee shop is nearing ready to open in the next few weeks.  It has left very little time for writing, but much time for begging my gods for guidance and strength.  Blessed Lugh and Beloved Brighid have been by my side and in my heart every day.

It took being knocked out by a lurgey to make me sit down for a few days and stop working so hard.  heh.

Relocating

While this blog will stay exactly where it is, the blogger will be relocating at the end of the month. Yes, it is a ridiculous time to be doing this, but sometimes things fall in your lap that you cannot ignore. This is a happy time for me and my husband, and all the characters inside my brain, trying to be heard.

Inspired

The American public has spoken, by a bloody landslide.  I have never been so proud of my country as I am today.  This is absolutely historic.

Back in the saddle

So many things raising their heads to thwart any progress on just getting through the read-through of the old Draft Zero.  Hurricanes, RSI, busted computers.  Feh.

Yesterday, I got the hubs out of the house and we went to Walnut Creek Park for the sole purpose of sitting still.  Usually, when we go there, we make use of some of the 11 miles of trails that tangle around the wooded section of the park.  This time, we brought water and apples and he brought a sketchbook while I lugged my only printed copy of the ms to read.

Parenthetically, it is extremely hard to get one’s mind into a book – any book – when there is Tejano music blaring from the speakers of one truck, let alone 3 or more.  This is a piece of Tejano culture that I truly Do Not Get(tm).  My husband theorizes that it is like a bird’s mating call, and that these men who sit in their truck, listening to the same “bum bum bum BA bum-bum bum bum” sound paired with what can only be described as a calliope doing unholy things, are actually waiting to attract a mate based on who can hold on the longest listening to the same wretched track.  But I digress…

So, I think I left off at what is currently known as Chapter 18 before we started to lose the light and I had had enough of the music.  But I will say this: Chapters 1 through 15 could probably be condensed into just one, or added as backstory to Chapters 16 on.  Which is both sad (kill your darlings, kill your darlings…) and heartening.  Because it means it doesn’t suck, but rather takes far too long to get to The Story.  Even I was getting bored and frustrated with the first several chapters.  And you only send the first 3 as your sample!  Gah!

The problem of time

No, not time to write (though everyone suffers that one).  What I’m thinking about is, how do you effectively introduce that your story is set in the recent past without plopping it in there like a bird turd out of the sky?

The hubby and I watched Starter For Ten the other night, and we pretty much figured out after watching for a time that it was set in the mid-eighties.  Mostly because the soundtrack was dominated by 80’s alternative tunes, but also by the fashions and use of these things called “cassette tapes”.  And maybe by the lack of cell phones.  But then, the characters are in a restaurant and they order wine, and this happens:

“What year is it?”

“1985.”

“No… [chuckle] …I meant, what year is the wine?”

“1985.”

See, that just seems hokey and ham fisted.  Not to mention, the scene appeared to exist for 2 reasons: to reveal that the female love interest was a slut, and to drop in the year for those who hadn’t yet figured it out.

Apart from the fact I didn’t really like the movie, this part really bothered me.  And if I were to write something set in the recent past, I’d really like to avoid it if I can.  But how do you do that?  Or do you just ignore hinting at it, and just not have cell phones or Internet in your story?

101 Questions

Still plugging away at reading the original MS.  A guy on one of my email lists introduced me to the 101 Questions for your character meme, which I started to apply to some of the main characters in the book.  I don’t see needing to do it for everyone, if for no other reason than it takes a lot of time to answer all the questions “in character” so to speak.  Perhaps I’ll start a new blog page to post the results, as they are quite interesting, and some of them surprised even me.

In other news, the graphics chip seems to be arsed on my laptop, which is part of the logic board, and thus something they’ve replaced once already.  Colour me not impressed with this.  Another round of repairs in the works, which means no laptop at home again until it’s right.

Web Comics

There seem to be two commonalities with webcomics:

1) The particularly GOOD ones (i.e. excellent artwork, compelling storylines) very often incur delays in new pages due to some outlandish drama in the artist’s life. As though the quality of the artwork and story is directly proportional to how much that artist’s life gets in the way of them creating said art.

2) The art in ad banners is often FAR better than the art in the comic itself. Which leads me to call “false advertising” really. Clearly the artist CAN draw worth a damn, but then they choose NOT to for the comic that’s meant to keep me returning to the story.  These are the comics I, not surprisingly, tend not to return to.

This is of course just an observation about a great number of comics I stumble upon. Of course there are exceptions. So far, Sarah Ellerton is one of those amazing exceptions.

Pardon me for writing

Several chapters in to the re-read and it is hard not to bring out the red pen. There’s some glaring mistakes, typos, etc, that I’m thinking, “oh, I can just fix that right now.” But I can’t because then I’ll start line editing, and it’s not ready for that yet.

One of the main things I’m noticing is the tone of the writing is extremely cautious. The language of the narration is so passive, it’s almost sorry for being there. Very like, “um, excuse me, sorry to bother you, but if you wouldn’t mind, I’ve got a few things to tell you, should you have the time.” I don’t know whether that had anything to do with my general mental state at the time of the writing, or simply that my fear of setting anything down on the page manifested as being so apologetic. I’m not sure how far I got in the chapters before I was laid off from my job in San Francisco and took a month to pack up everything and move to Austin. I know now, though, that the word count will shrink considerably once I clear out all those weasel words.

On “new age hogwash”

I’ve often quipped that one day, I’m going to write my own religion. I might still. And for someone whose religious views came from some old text (or a purportedly old text), it’ll probably come off as 1) derivative and/or 2) new age hogwash. Here’s the thing: I don’t care what they think.

When it comes to your spirituality, do what makes you happy. If you are happy to call yourself an Indigo Child and believe you’re from an alien planet, and your goddess is Buffy the Vampire Slayer and you dance naked in your backyard around a circle of fire built from wooden blocks and old clothes… feel free. It’s YOUR soul/spirit/aura/whatever. Only YOU can know what speaks to you. And everyone else? Don’t tell other people how to worship, or mock them for what they believe. Just don’t. ‘Cause whatever you believe? You could be accused of believing in New Age Hogwash just as much as the next person. I’ve grown sick and tired of people looking for evidence that one religious belief is more valid than another. For Christ’s sake (pardon the pun), there’s no evidence that God/gods exist. One man’s evidence is another man’s psychosis.

If you have faith, great. If someone else’s faith is in something else, let them be.

A non-Elewirian post

There’s always some other piece of writing on the back burner while working on ALUTK. This one doesn’t have a proper name, but I refer to it (in my own head) as “The Ghost Story” even though the “ghost” in it isn’t actually dead. He likes to remind me of that occasionally, lest I forget.

“I’m not dead,” says he. “Just presently incorporeal.” He says it with a very English *sniff*. I believe he may be from Oxford. He was also born around 1905 and “went missing” in 1940.

At any rate, this morning, since I am momentarily caught up at work (relatively speaking; there is always *something* I could be doing) I spent some time with the non-dead ghost and got almost 900 words. They’re not all good words, but this scene has been plaguing me every night as I lay down to sleep and every morning when I wake up my alarm clock and my cat simultaneously try to get me out of bed. I wasn’t sure how it was meant to go, but it’s become a lot clearer now.

The crazy thing is, I see this story as having a multitude of climactic moments, which makes me wonder if it wants to be a book, a series of short stories, or an episodic TV show. I’m thinking book, but my stories almost always have that “this could have visuals and a soundtrack” feel to them, even if I have no idea how to write screenplays.

At any rate, he has gone from being a blonde with blue eyes and a broad frame, standing at 6′2″, to being thin as a rail, under 6 feet tall, with stick-straight chestnut brown hair and brown eyes. I think it fits the profile of a paranormal scientist far better, in the end. And the heroine of the story fancies him better than way.