Monthly Archives: March 2013

WIPpet Wednesday? Don’t Mind If I Do!

Yeah, I’m subjecting you all to my blathering twice in one day. Again. But a blog I just started following posted her WIPpet wednesday excerpt, and I went to have a look at other people’s… it’s just way too much fun! Parties all over the place today- works in progress AND it’s Jae at Lit and Scribbles’ blogiversary. Aww!

So here’s how it goes: you post a short bit from a current work in progress that somehow relates to the day’s date. So today being the 13th, you get an itty bitty sample of chapter 13… which hasn’t been hit by final revisions yet, but this part probably won’t change much.

Background: This chapter is told by Aren, who is… well, to know him is to be confused by him. He and Rowan just escaped from a hairy situation that might have helped her trust him a little more, but the fact that he’s manipulating people’s minds is probably still too much for her, the poor lamb. 😉

(not the beginning or end of the scene, not even the beginning of that first paragraph… because of all the reasons. Just trust me.)

**

I didn’t like hiding, especially in a spot that would have been so difficult to escape from, but it hadn’t been all bad. It was cramped and uncomfortable, and being there left us too vulnerable, but that hadn’t kept me from enjoying having her body pressed against mine for a few minutes.

“Did you really give those people memories that weren’t real?” she whispered after the groom left to collect our things, pulling me out of thoughts that I shouldn’t have been having.

“In a way.”

“And you made that other guy kill his brother?” She looked like she was afraid to hear my answer, but I wasn’t going to lie to her about it.

“Yes.”

“What were you just doing to that man who just left?”

“What I had to. Nothing that will hurt him, so don’t worry about it.”

She stepped away from me and rubbed the horse’s nose. “It seems wrong, though.”

“I didn’t see you jumping in to distract him,” I whispered back as the groom returned with food and clean bedrolls. “You’re benefiting from this at least as much as I am. If you don’t like it, find your own cure.” She held my gaze for a moment, then looked away and turned to saddle her horse. I knew I wasn’t being nice; she was probably confused about everything that was happening, but I was exhausted and in no mood to feel like a villain for trying to help her.

She was silent as we rode away from the inn, through the still-quiet village and past a faded sign that advised us to “Come again soon!” Not bloody likely, I thought. I’d be lucky to survive the next week if I couldn’t stop being distracted or falling into deep sleep. Keeping us safe was turning out to more challenging than I’d anticipated.

Rowan seemed to be turning things over in her mind for the next while, which was fine with me. It was well into the morning before she spoke again. She didn’t turn toward me, but watched out of the corner of her eye. “Have you done that to me at all?”

I’d wondered how long it would take her to ask. “No. Not once.”

“How can I be sure of that? You could be making me think that I was making my own decisions but really you’ve been doing it for me, and making me not notice that what I was doing was strange, or-”

Even though I was feeling frustrated and nearly too tired to think, it was hard not to laugh at her. “Rowan?”

“What?”

“You’re not worth that much trouble.”

**

So there you go, my lovely readers. Out of context, short, probably confusing, but that’s a bit of chapter 13 for you. If you would like to see what others have posted today, the links are here, all conveniently conglomerated for your convenient consumption*. Thank you to K.L. Schwengel for hosting the whole shebang. Enjoy!

*No, I have not been watching “V for Vendetta.” But now I want to.


Hey, Look Up There!

See that, up there? Yeah, on the bar… thing. There’s a new whatchamacallit called About My Book! Long story short, it’s questions and answers about Bound for anyone who’s wondering what the hell I’m babbling about in all of these posts (I’ll add more posts later). No spoilers, just some fun information based on the questions from the “Next Big Thing” blog hop (since one of my new favourite bloggers mentioned it, and I liked the idea).

Why not, right? Here’s the link for anyone who doesn’t come to the blog. You’re so very welcome. 🙂


Critical

I don’t mind most aspects of the editing process, but there is one thing that really bothers me: when I’m editing my own work, I become extremely critical of other people’s.

In a way, it makes no sense. These are published books I’m finding fault with, so obviously they’re doing a lot of things right. Most things, even. Who am I to criticize? Me, way down here. Hi.

And I’m not- at least, not where anyone else can see. It’s not that I’m huffing and puffing and throwing books against the wall (usually), then taking to the internet to rail about how I could do so much better. Not at all. I have so much respect for the work that people put into their stories, that their editors do to make it the best it can be, yadda yadda.

All I’m saying is that when I’m editing my own work, it makes it very difficult for me to enjoy other people’s, because I’m subconsciously analyzing everything, evaluating it the way I’m evaluating my own work, spotting the things I would consider fixing if the story was mine, things that work and things that don’t. And it’s really, really annoying.

Right now I’m reading a book I got for Christmas, and of course I’m not going to mention the name of it here. It’s an interesting book- fresh take on the vampire thing, I think (I’m only a few chapters in), where they’re monsters and not love interests. Yay! I should be enjoying it, but it’s hard when my brain won’t just shut up about “uh-huh, jumping right into the main conflict,” or “yep, slipping backstory in there, very smooth.” And that’s when things are going well. I got to page 53-ish and found out (because it’s actually stated outright) that one character is on a mission to save the world, and another is THE KEY TO SAVING ALL MANKIND OMG, and I wanted to put it down and read something else.*

Are those bad things in and of themselves? I guess not. It certainly sets the stakes high, doesn’t it? Now it should matter to me whether this guy succeeds at winning over the special girl who doesn’t know she’s special. But I was disappointed, and that’s probably not fair. Is the “savior of the world” thing overdone? Yes, but that’s no reason to think that a new take on it can’t be exciting. But all I can think is “well THAT was clumsy… Try to save the world, please, but don’t tell me you’re doing it!” If it was a library book, I’d probably have quit. Again, unfair, but I’ve done it before.

And the little things, like a character frequently saying things like “I felt the wind blow my hair” rather than just telling me that the wind blew her hair (obviously you feel it…). Things that I can see people picking on if I wrote it, and that I therefore try to be careful not to overuse. But when I’m reading, I’d like to be able to not notice that, to just see the wind blowing her hair (and/or her feeling it).

At least this one’s not overdoing the adverbs. I recently put another (very popular) book down because the writing style bothered me, and that was a big part of it. Effective when used sparingly, irritating when every time he grinned it was wolfishly, and every time she hurried is was quickly.

I read so much about what works and what doesn’t in writing and why that I pick it out in everything I read. My life has become a high school English class, and it’s driving me insane.

I wish I could let it go when I step away from the computer. I know my work is as bad as or worse than anything these people do, and that I’m probably doing a lot of the things I’m so critical of. My writing certainly has flaws that I’m blind to. I don’t mean to be critical. I just want my brain to shut up and enjoy the effing story already.

Does anyone else have this problem, or are you able to compartmentalize, to leave work at the office, so to speak?

*I’m still hoping that it turns out he’s wrong, that she can’t save the world through her powers and they’ll have to struggle together to find another way. How fun would that be?!


Headache

(I wrote this on Saturday. I’m fine now… But this is my brain on headache, presented unedited. Don’t try this at home.)

So my head. It hurts. I took some thingy thing for it, but it still hurts, though now it feels more squashy and flobbledy than it did before, and less like a nasty old troll is smacking the back of my skull in with a rusty-nail-spiked board, so I guess that’s an improvement.

Also, “In the Night Garden” is starting to make sense. There’s something very wrong with me.

I’ve been screwing up words all day. I told Ike to put his underwear in the garbage when I meant the laundry, and I keep saying stuff like “put the thing in the other thing, and let’s get to the place so we can do the other whatever. Thing.”

Thank God they’re not usually like this. I get a lot of headaches, but I can usually function fairly normally.

I think it’s actually melting. I’m just going to lie down and be very still so my brain doesn’t flow all over my pillow and make it smell all brainy. That’s probably gross.

Probably best if I don’t try to do any writing until this gets more normal…


Something Sweet

I’m feeling pretty blah today- sick, drugged, tired, kinda cranky. Instead of spreading all of that to you dear, wonderful people, I’m going to show you something that made me smile this week, and hope it does the same for you.

Have an amazing weekend!

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Rest in Pieces (or How Computers Become Real)

It’s a sad day, my friends. My beloved netbook is no longer with us.

The end came suddenly, and she was in good spirits last time I used her. I don’t think she suffered. One minute she seemed fine, the next she was still fine, but not charging.

I took her to the best help I could find, and they presented me with a tough choice: spend the money to fix her, or get my data transferred over to a “like new” refurbished computer for less, and more quickly.

If I’d had the money, I’d have spent it to save her, even if it cost a lot more.

Seriously.

I know it’s stupid. One computer should be pretty much the same as any other. The new one’s the same brand (make, not model). But I get terribly attached to inanimate objects.

We’ve been through a lot together. I wrote a novel on that computer. And re-wrote it. Repeatedly. And drafted another one. Then there were the blog posts, the evenings spent going back and forth between Scrivener and Facebook… We had many days together in car dealerships waiting for repairs and oil changes, and she never complained about being bored. She was with me when I discovered the library in Gander, and though she wasn’t around for my first NaNoWriMo, she was with me through two wins (if you count camp) and one fail. I mean, loss. I mean… Attempt? Whatever.

She was the first computer that was ever MINE, and she made it possible for me to actually find time to write.

Also, she was black and shiny, and had wicked leaf and bird decals on the hood. Screen back? Again, whatever.

The new one will be fine. Sure, it’s a little different; it’s red, and the power button’s not the same. But it works, and that’s important… I guess.

I’m going to act like there’s no superstitious feeling connected to the fact that I’ve only had success with this story on that one computer, because that would be silly. Silly like sport-type guys not shaving or changing their socks (who marries these people, anyway?).

Does this post seem especially disjointed to anyone else? I CAN’T DO IT WITHOUT HER! *sob*

Tell me I’m not the only one who forms irrational attachments to inanimate objects, that I’m not the only one who feels like I owe them something after their years of service.* You all do this, right?

*I place the blame for this squarely on The Velveteen Rabbit. It was loved! It was REAL! I could have saved it instead of letting them use it for parts! So what if it had scarlet fever**?

**May not have actually had scarlet fever.

EDIT: As requested, my new (to me) computer:

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Fancy.


*In Case You Hadn’t Noticed…

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Oh, hi there!

Hello new people! I don’t know why more than 30 individuals who I’ve never met are voluntarily receiving e-mails when I post; you may soon be wondering this yourself, actually. But I’m very happy to have every one of you here! I hope you’ll have as much fun as I do here.

Now, everyone share, play nice with the other kids, and don’t make me turn this car around, because I’ll do it.

Good.

Everyone comfortable? Excellent. Blog party!

[insert party music of your choice]


Back to the Drawing Board?

Not quite. But I’m doing something I said I was done with.

Revisions on Bound.

Not editing. Not perking up scenes that aren’t quite there yet. I mean actually ignoring everything that’s already there, going back to square one and figuring out the best way to tell this story, and THEN seeing whether anything can be salvaged from the original.

This is terrifying. I thought I was done with that. I thought I had my story, that it was just clean-up from this point on. After all, people have liked it, right? Some have even loved it. So it’s good enough.

The thing is, good enough isn’t good enough. I can do better. No matter how it hurts, I’m going to make this thing the best it can be. If that means “killing my darlings,” ripping out scenes that I’ve spent so much time and effort on but that don’t contribute to the best work I can do, then so be it. If it means that I don’t feel ready for this thing to see the light of day for another 6 months… well, that will hurt a lot, too. But I’m not doing this to get published (even though, hello, that’s a huge dream of mine). I’m doing it to tell a story, and what’s the point of putting it out there if it’s only good enough?

It can be tighter. It can be sharper. The stakes can be higher. Everything can mean more to my characters, and therefore to my readers.

I’ve complained before about my perfectionist tendencies, but I think that right now my old frenemy Perfectionism is doing me a favour. As long as she’s not making me feel terrible for not getting it “right” the first time (which she totally will, but I’m used to that), she might actually help me do something better. If she’s telling me that I can do more, that to not at least try would be settling for less than what I can achieve, I can accept that. I still want to punch her in her smug, stupid face, but for once, I don’t think she’s wrong.

Am I rambling yet? Because I just decided this, and I’m still a bit freaked out.

So here’s what I’m going to do, for those of you who are interested in that sort of thing: I know my story inside and out (and inside-out, for that matter). I know my characters better than I know most of my friends. I’m going to print out the full current manuscript and lock it away for a while, and I’m going to start over. I’m going to find a stronger starting point, I’m going to raise the stakes, I’m going to make things harder on everyone involved. I’m probably going to cut characters. I’m going to keep the story tighter, and I hope get down to the 90,000 word range. When all of that planning is done I’ll see what I can salvage from before, but this isn’t a conservation project. Much as it will hurt to lose the lovely dialogue I worked so hard on, the scenes I’ve set that mean so much to me, it’ll be worth the sacrifice if it makes a stronger story.

It’s all a learning experience, right?

EDIT: I wrote this last Thursday. I’ve thought about it, I’ve planned it out. A lot can change, but I’m actually surprised how much of the original structure really works, with some changes needed to accomplish the aforementioned tightening, sharpening, and general shitting on characters’ heads to make things more interesting. I’m re-doing the first few chapters.

Aren’s my biggest problem, as expected. Asshole.

Still doing a complete rewrite, but I’m really happy to say that the last version really just needs plastic surgery, not a transplant into some kind of android body… or whatever. Science Fiction’s not my thing, I don’t know how that works.


What? He took my seat.

He knows he’s guilty. -_-

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