12.1.13

I've been working most of the weekend, though I have precious little to show for it. Only an net additional 3K words, but the first 15 chapters are now solidly in place, make sense, flow, all that jazz. This morning, I realized I needed to delete all of yesterday's work, over 1000 words gone to the gutter. I hate doing it, but I went off the rails yesterday, and thank goodness I woke up this morning and realized it before I continued the thread any further. Happily, a new solution presented itself, so I grabbed that thread and wove it in, and voilá, we have liftoff.

I'm heading out to Cali this week to sit down with CC and talk about the book, where it is now, how all our planning and plotting has come together, and what happens next. Communication is absolutely vital to a collaboration, and while we've been talking constantly, a little face to face never hurt anything. Plus, there is a Christmas party to attend! A holiday treat for us both, for sure.

Speaking of face to faces, I had coffee with my über cool buddy Meg Gardiner yesterday. (Best grab her latest, THE SHADOW TRACER, ASAP)  Talk about a treat. There's nothing better than being able to sit down in person with your friends. So many of my buds I only get to see at conferences, so I was tickled we were able to hook up. And tomorrow there's a writer's brunch here in town, so it's more in person action with like-minded folk.

And you know what? It's a very good thing. Being isolated behind a computer screen all the time is terribly unhealthy. Facebook and Twitter will never be enough of a substitute for seeing the light gleam in another writer's eyes as they tell you a story.

Cheers, mates!

11.27.13

They call this writing thing controlled psychosis for a reason. Sometimes, if you're very lucky, the Muse grants you access to another plane, where the voices speak in your head with such ferocity the only thing you can do is open the manuscript and type, in a trance, the words you hear, from the invisible people. Truly, if we were on a street corner speaking aloud, we'd be considered mentally ill. Hell, we all probably are, anyway. I mean really, who but a delusional writer could possibly think the words we put down on the page might be enjoyed by a total stranger?

Happily, more than one of us suffer from these delusions, as my to be read pile (bookshelves) can attest.

So back to the disembodied voices - it happened to me today. A completely new voice, from an already established character. She stood up and waved, and when I ignored her, she started to speak. Insistently. So I wrote down her words, 1000 of them, the true beginning of her story, and I think it actually enhances the book. Weirdness. Lovely weirdness. Maybe it's kitty magic. They were draped around my neck purring whilst it happened. 

And I'm all excited - I'm getting an early Christmas present this weekend, too. Darling hubby is reconfiguring my laundry room, so I'l actually have room to maneuver, and we can turn part of it into a second pantry, for the oversized goods. This is a multi-step project, mostly because in order to make it just right, we need one of those gucci stackable front-loading washer and dryer units, and since my regular ones work just fine (15 years and counting) there's no need to spend the money on the über-cool ones. The room is weird, the dryer five feet back from the washer. So we're painting, and taking down the much too wide side shelving, which impedes my ability to get to the dryer, and removing the hideous wall of peg board that's ripping away from the drywall. Hurrah! Baby steps, but it will go a long way to making the room functional. Plus - a nice big box goes to Goodwill, of things we no longer need.  (Thanks, babe! It WILL rock my world!)

I'm hoping to get in at least an hour of writing tomorrow before the turkey festivus commences, since I feel like there's a roll starting. Wish me luck, eat lots of turkey, and may all blessings be upon you and yours as we celebrate our Thanksgiving. Ours, and the unseen who populate our brains....

11.26.13

Thanksgiving week. A time for gratitude attitude on steroids.

I'm feeling especially blessed today. We've already had some snow, which makes me incredibly happy. My parents came up at the beginning of the month and we had an early Thanksgiving, which was so lovely, so fun. I have two new babies, who are giving me more joy than I can handle. I have brilliant, beautiful and courageous friends, and a husband I completely adore. We are all healthy and happy, pursuing our dreams, and just so damn lucky to be who we are, when we are.

I had a dentist appointment today, and the girls had to go to the vet to get their shots (They did so good! My brave little bunnies) so all I had a chance to do was workout, and edit a bit, and think, and rework. There's going to be more snow tonight - sticking snow - so I've made a fire, and we're having a nice chicken pot pie, and tomorrow, I will sit down with my tea and get some words down. Then Thursday is food with the family, so another day off,  then I'm working all weekend. I'm starting to get into deadline mode on this book - I wanted a draft done by Christmas, though I don't think that will happen. But I can try. I can try.

And for this gift, I am so incredibly grateful. 

What are you grateful for?

Sweet dreams!

11.25.13

Blew up the book this morning. This sounds terrible, I know, but what it really means is: I sat down to work, looked at the chapter I was writing, realized I had made a mistake, early on. That I wasn't happy with the flow, the pace, or the plot, so I decided to shake things up a bit. I moved two chapters up so they're near the beginning, combined two action scenes into one, and tomorrow, I'll go through from the beginning and start revising to make it all make sense. THEN I'll be able to start moving forward again. 

I hate having to do this. It seems to happen more often with my really intense action thrillers than it does with the slow burn suspense, but this isn't the first time I've been forced to throw a bomb in. The story demands what it demands. I am simply its caretaker. I do what it requires so it can sustain and grow.

Also had a meeting downtown with some fellow writers about a project we're thinking about. We went to lunch after - and lo and behold - SNOW! We joked that God was throwing confetti on our idea. But watching the fat flakes parade down from the sky, I was in heaven, and still am. You can take the girl out of Colorado, but you can't take the Colorado out of the girl.

Wish me luck for better words and flow tomorrow. And more snow!

Sweet dreams!

11.22.13

A measly 620 today. Just as I got my feet under me, I had to skedaddle to an appointment, and some grocery shopping. I've been out of apples all week, and feel all sorts of pale and squashy as a result. I know, I know, how hard is it to run to the store? It's only I like a certain kind of apples, from Trader Joe's, and it's a thirty minute drive to get them. I'm working this weekend, though, so I can hopefully make up some time.

There was a Somebody at Trader Joe's tonight. Skulking about, watching everyone watch him, a rocker of some sort, painfully thin and pale and jet black hair and sunglasses. All I could think was wow, that's a lot of effort to put in to hold forth at Trader Joe's. Hopefully he was dolled up for a show tonight and it wasn't for the organic masses. And I said a small prayer of thanks that my showmanship must be limited to the page, because it would be so exhausting to have to be Somebody all the time, even whilst grocery shopping.

Trader Joe's is one of my favorite people watching spots in Nashville. It attracts a massive cross-section of Nashvillians. I couldn't help but wonder what Taylor would make of it - TJs being a post-Taylor phenomenon. So yes, there I was, plotting the murder of a pale, aging rocker amongst the apples. I do so love being a crime fiction writer.

Sweet dream and happy weekend to you.