Category Archives: Writing

NaNoWriMo 2011 planning update…

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My NaNoWriMo prep is moving along nicely. I now have a dozen characters: two major, three supporting, and seven minor.

I have a sense as well of themes, which include pursuing perfection/perfection as the enemy of the good — literally! Think Dr. Faustus ;-) — and the tension between trying to live from the head vs. trying to live from that other Self, whatever it is.

My characters are all golfers, which means the book will probably get pegged as a golf novel, but my goal of course is for it to split the seams of any genre. There will be romance, and there will be comedy, and there will be Big Ideas if you care to look for them. If  even non-golfers will find it fun to read, I’ll be the happiest writer on the planet.

Can’t wait to get started :-)

NaNoWriMo, or: Just because it’s stupid doesn’t mean I’m not going to try it

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National Novel Writing Month!

Fifty thousand words in 30 days. Because what could possibly go wrong?

Just because it’s stupid doesn’t mean I’m not going to try it

If you’re a writer . . .

Or have even thought about being a writer . . .

And have spent any time at all kicking around the Interwebs over the past several years . . .

You’ve probably stumbled across this: the phenom known affectionately as NoWriMo.

National Novel Writing Month!

It’s a movement. It’s a website. It’s a community.

It’s a way to invite public shame if you fail to crank out 50,000 words in 30 days.

I tried NaNoWriMo once before — in 2006. I lasted five days. Posted my progress each day on this blog ’til my effort met its early and ignoble end.

I have a new strategy, this year.

You’re allowed to lay some groundwork — an outline, for example — before you get started.

As it happens, I don’t find outlines helpful for writing fiction. Either the outline has to be so complete that it is basically the entire novel, or it has big gaps — and big gaps are the enemy of NaNoWriMo success, at least for me, because that’s what slows me down: I hit a gap and don’t know how to fill it and freeze.

So I’m going to try something different.

I’m going to pre-create a bunch of characters. (Already started, little buggers are wandering around in my head like they own the place.)

I’m going to create a handful of predestined events. (Got some of those already in place, too. I know there’s going to be a guy dead on a golf course — maybe it was an accident, maybe not. I know there’s going to be a member-guest golf tournament. I know there’s going to be people who fall in love ;-). And I know there’s going to be a winning lottery ticket. At least, there will be someone who think it’s a winning ticket — only he can’t remember where he put it. Think “where the heck did I put my car keys?” only a tad more urgent.)

And then, on November 1, I’m going to turn the characters loose and report what happens to them as they knock into those events and each other.

So we’ll see. Perhaps I’ll last only five days again . . .

But maybe I’ll be a bit more successful this time.

So how about you? Have you ever tried NaNoWriMo? If not, why not? And if yes, how did it go?

#FridayFlash: The excuse

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Five times that night, her mother called her, and five times that night she didn’t pick up.

It wasn’t a bad night, overall, at least at first. The cold snap had finally broken.  When she took Crisscross out for his last walk of the day there was finally no more ice on the road, she could have worn sneakers instead of boots. The air was damp and ripe with the smell of mud, and a half block from the farmhouse she suddenly passed into a current of air that had been tinged by the sweet-sour musk of a passing skunk — such a contrast to the sterility of the past weeks’ bitter cold, of the arid piles of snow that had smothered the countryside end to end all winter.

But then Derrick had stopped by.

Her mother loved Derrick.

“If you don’t marry him, I will!” she’d said the last time they’d talked.

Janice had no answer. She was still shocked that there was a ring — that her mother had seen a ring.

“He’s so sweet and old-fashioned.”

“If he was old-fashioned he would have gone to Dad, not  you.”

They both knew why he hadn’t.

Janice waited.

“That was a long time ago,” her mother said. “He paid the money back. Every penny.”

“I have to go.”

“He’s got the ring,” her mother repeated. “You’ll break his heart. It’s all arranged.”

Arranged?

Really?

Three days passed with Janice left waiting — what else could she do? — and then that night as the clouds pressed their darkness across the sky the doorbell finally rang and everything changed.

“Hush, Crisscross.”

The dog stopped barking, stood behind her as she opened the door.

Derrick knew her answer as soon as he saw her face.

She didn’t invite him in.

“I’m not ready,” she told him.

But they both knew what she really meant. She was 35. There was no more getting ready.

She heard him slam his car door — but he wasn’t the only one who was angry. Janice was, too. Hearing her own words as they slid out of her mouth . . .

By the time her cell started ringing she was already online.

She was thinking about debts.

But she was writing down the phone numbers of realtors . . .

An Author’s Amazon Wish List

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Via the top-shelf blogger Passive Guy, here’s a top-shelf post by Mike Stackpole about Amazon and the book biz.

One of the points Stackpole makes is that as an online/digitally savvy company, Amazon has real time access to data about what its customers are buying — i.e., “statistics and analysis that tells them which authors are trending or about to trend.”

Amazon can act on those stats to “cherry pick talent and promote their ‘discoveries.'”

Amazon also has the ability to promote digital sales of books and later on produce a print compilation of digital novels, offering a unique print product. This is actually stated as a plan in their press release.

Good on Amazon. And I agree. This gives them a huge advantage over brick & mortar publishers/distributors.

But I do wish one thing: that Amazon would share more of its statistics with its writers.

As Passive Guy writes in his post, indie authors are in many respects Amazon’s partners in the e-publishing trend. He also writes:

Indie publishing has changed authors from helpless little children who cry and wait for their agent or publisher to come and wipe their noses into savvy and intelligent entrepreneurs, people who know how to do things for themselves.

To which I add: entrepreneurs need data.

I’d like to know how many clicks I get on my stuff on Amazon — my book pages, my author page.

I’d like to know how many book samples are being downloaded.

I’d like to know what percent of sample downloads convert to sales.

I’d like to know when/where people abandon my page or for that matter quit reading the sample.

And I’d like to know how all those stats compare to data about other authors’ Amazon activity.

I mean, think about it. For indie authors, Amazon pages and samples are marketing tools.

With the right kind of data, we’d better understand how well those tools are working — or how they can be tweaked.

Of course Amazon has reason to keep its data inside its kimono: competitors. But there’s a workaround, too: just release it in the form of trends and percentages rather than raw numbers.

So how about it Amazon? Please? Pretty please?

Booking Through Thursdays

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This week’s question is:

If you could get a sequel for any book, what would it be?

Right now? Portrait of a Lady by Henry James, for three reasons.

  1. I enjoyed the book and would love to be able to re-enter its world.
  2. James created a character that I like, then closed the novel with an ambiguous ending. I want to know if Isabella leaves Gilbert! And for that matter, what happens to poor Pansy?
  3. Since  no sequel exists, for one to suddenly appear would require one of two things: either a dead author would need to come back to life; or he would need to otherwise project his consciousness into physical reality. And either scenario would have quite intriguing metaphysical implications :-D

#Fridayflash. I Tripped . . .

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I tripped over the broomstick — YES I knew it was there. Quit interrupting, please.

It always falls out of the broom closet. The broom closet is too damned jammed full. Everything in my life is too damned jammed full. Especially my closets. Would you like an inventory of my broom closet? The vacuum cleaner, the mop, the bucket, the steamer, the rag bag. All expected. But wait! There’s more! Bag of sidewalk salt. Old school backpack. Plastic jug of distilled water. The ex’s shortwave radio (!!!!)

Nothing fits. Things spill out all the time, do you think I don’t know what’s going on? This is Chaos herself — Khaos! Respect her! She can’t be stuffed in a closet you know!

So the broom spilled out, I don’t know when, maybe the kids needed something from the closet this morning — the handle spilt across the doorway to the mud room, I was hurrying back from the bus stop, late for work, tripped, coffee all over.

I was flying for a moment, floating.

It seemed like a very long moment.

But that’s an illusion, a trick the mind plays — and why? To divert your attention? You’re about to get the bruising of your life, your floating is about to meets its bruising end on the hard, hard floor.

Don’t think about it yet don’t think about it yet . . .

I called Derrick afterwards, of course, and he could tell I was crying — I shouldn’t have called — one of those girlie things we do and shouldn’t because what was there to fix?

Nothing. Nothing. The fixing maybe could have happened yesterday, by cleaning out the closet, I suppose.

But he came over anyway, and drove me to work . . .

So I take it back, actually, now that I think it over again. Because I realized after he kissed me and I got out of the car and ran up to the glass doors and through and flashed my ID at the security guard:

“He drove me to work . . . he’ll pick me up after work.”

So maybe the little breaks our mind gives us are not the breaks but the thing itself. Like those optical illusions.

Is it a picture of two ladies’ profiles or a vase?

He’ll pick me up after work. Maybe we’ll grab a bite to eat. Maybe I’ll ask him about his day.

Maybe tripping over a broom handle isn’t the accident so much as the start of the floating . . .

Is that even possible, I wonder?

I wonder . . .

WWW Wednesdays :-)

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Via Should Be Reading, another game, w00t!

To play along, just answer the following three (3) questions…

• What are you currently reading?
• What did you recently finish reading?
• What do you think you’ll read next?

My answers . . .

What are you currently reading? This is a bit of a dupe from yesterday of course — Charterhouse of Parma,  a 19th century French novel by Stendhal.

What did you recently finish reading? Portrait of a Lady by Henry James and An Absence of Angels by Julie Harris. (Historical fiction, enjoyed it very much!)

What do you think you’ll read next? I just found out this morning that Wickedly Charming, a novel by Kristine Grayson, a.k.a. Kristine Kathryn Rusch, is available for free this week on Kindle. Rusch’s husband Dean Wesley Smith writes that the book is “about publishing. It is wonderful fun and even has Sheldon McArthur the book dealer as a character.”

I downloaded a copy and I bet that’s what I read next :-)

Can Job and New York’s Gay Marriage Bill

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So this cracks me up.

One of my characters in Can Job — the heroine’s best friend — is gay, and in one of the first scenes in the book Taylor joins her at a protest related to a gay marriage bill in New York State.

Mind you, the book is not really political, unless you count poking fun at politicians as “political.” The particular pol that figures in this scene is Bo Valgus, whose biggest mistake was not his position no the issue necessarily but that he wasn’t quick enough to voice support for it during a local radio interview. This being fiction, I also couldn’t miss a chance to take a dig at a certain former state governor :-)

The DJ had asked his opinion about same-sex marriage and he’d answered “I haven’t had a chance to think about it, to tell the truth.” The idiot. Everyone knew that a same sex marriage would have come to the floor if ex-Governor Eminent Flipzer’s ungovernable hetero sex drives hadn’t led him to disgrace and ruin. Well, if not ruin, then a brief time-out to think about what a bad boy he’d been.

Overnight, the legislature had become suddenly paranoid about any issue associated with the letters s-e-x.

And so here they were, to express their chagrin with Bo Valgus.

Anyway, I’m laughing today because only a couple months after self-pubbing the novel, a same-sex marriage bill has now passed in our state.

My book is already dated!

lol

But I really couldn’t be more pleased :-)

As one of my FB friends posted, it’s a great day to be a New York Stater.