Category: Writing

Tea for two

In case anyone was wondering, I went with the English tea service at the Samovar Tea Lounge. It came with a three tiered serving platter with a shiitake mushroom quiche, fresh fruit, and a scone with preserves and clotted cream. This last is no doubt one of the worst things you can eat. Bad never tasted so good.

I was also served a side order of sunburn. Being clever, I made this worse by walking all the way down Market Street and then along the Wharf.

In what is absolutely perfect timing, our editor (!!!) sent us (that would be me and Darcy) a few minor edits on the Geek Girl’s Guide revision we turned in a few weeks back. A few as in we can deal with this in email few. So nice. And so far, doable. After this, the manuscript is official and goes to copy edits.

What’s funny is while–yes–we’ve cut some things, the story grew again, by the tune of 5,000 words! More, we want more seems to be the order of the day. When it comes to conventional wisdom about publishing and Geek Girl’s Guide, nothing is conventional.

What a difference a word makes

So it’s entirely possible I shouldn’t blog, since I saw the headline about Russia attacking Georgia and misread it as Russia attacking Germany. Now there’s a world event I didn’t see coming. I had a full-fledged 80s flashback to when I used to brief the intelligence portion of the V Corps general defense plan along with everyone’s favorite two words: Fulda Gap.

Anyway, like I said: I’m probably too tired to blog. (And possibly Fulda Gap are just two of my favorite words.)

I’m sure everyone is expecting all sorts of insights from my time at the conference. Or not. There were a lot of good workshops and Bill Stephens Productions will be offering some (or maybe all of the recorded sessions, although not all were recorded) for individual download on the web. The RWA National site has a PDF with all the recorded sessions, so you can browse and get your iPod ready.

Where was I? Oh, yes, insights. Did you ever know something only to have someone else put it into words for you?

During Dr. Eric Maisel’s session on Creativity for Life, he talked about “loving” the work (meaning writing). Someone later on asked about the love part–what do you do when you’re in full-on hate mode with your current project.

Dr. Maisel clarified what he meant. It isn’t discipline that brings us to the page when we hate everything we’ve written since 1997. It’s devotion.

One little word switch and I had a light bulb moment. Of course. For years, people have commented on my discipline with writing. I’ve always hemmed and hawed and tried well, no it’s not really discipline … but I didn’t have a word for what it was.

Or to put it in middle school terms: I always like writing, even when I don’t like like writing.

And then we took a nap

We’re done–done, I tell you–with the edit. I sent the manuscript to our editor (!!!) this morning, which means no editing this weekend. It might mean I’ll have a few spare words for the blog. Seriously, I didn’t want to accidentally use some words here that we might need in the manuscript. I was in word conservation mode.

So now we keep our fingers crossed, hold our breath, and all the rest. In the meantime, I have plenty of items on my “Big List of Things to Do before the Conference” list. The only thing marked off so far?

The first sale ribbon.

Sure, my conference wardrobe is half virtual at the moment (as in, I don’t physically possess half the items I plan to wear). Who needs a blouse when you have a first sale ribbon.

Priorities, people. It’s all about priorities.

Say what?

I have great affection for puns, misheard lyrics, and unintentionally funny typos. Once, when I was working on an installation guide, I meant to write: It does not. What I wrote was:

It’s doe snot.

Yeah. It keeps you humble. Below is a video courtesy of SBTB.

I’ve always like the Joe Cocker version of this song better than the Beatles version. Sacrilege? Probably. At least now I know all the words. I love how into the song he is. Granted, in this video, evidence suggests he’s into several other things as well. Still. Dude rocks this song.

Kyra’s at that age where she interprets lyrics/words her own way. Her version of the pledge:

… one nation, under God, invisible …

Not to mention the major confusion with “liberty and justice for all” since she had a preschool friend named Liberty and Andrew has a friend named Justice. You try explaining.

This year, at her summer program, she’s learning all sorts of old camp standards. You may remember this one:

Got this little piece of tin
Nobody knows what shape it’s in
Got four wheels and a running board
It’s a Ford, oh, it’s a Ford.

Here’s Kyra’s version:

Got this little piece of Tim …

Ah, yes. The young Hannibal Lecter attends summer camp. Good times.

Of edits and things

So, some of you were wondering where I was that strangers hand me Godiva chocolates. It was lunch hour. I’d just mailed something at the post office, stopped at the ATM, and I was cutting through Macy’s. Because that’s easier than walking around Macy’s. Plus, when you walk through Macy’s, strangers hand you Godiva chocolate.

Then I went back to my desk and ate my PB&J and the banana I brought for lunch.

I have a short story up at The Long and the Short of It. it is absolutely, positively pure romance. It’s also very sweaty. You’ve been warned.

Darcy and I are working on edits. Actually, Darcy is making a sandwich. I’m supposed to be thinking about edits. Am I? Sure. I can think and type a blog entry at the same time. (Shhh. Don’t tell Darcy.)

As added incentive, our editor (!!!) sent us the cover concept today. Sadly, we can’t share it yet, but we may be able to as soon as later this month. But right now? It’s my desktop wallpaper.

And there’s something totally surreal about that.

Writer’s workout

Warm up: Pace around the house. Check phone for dial tone. Pace some more. Do deep knee bend to get water out of mini-fridge.

Aerobic phase: Phone rings. Heart rate doubles. 212 and New York flash across the Caller ID screen. Heart rate triples. Pick up phone. If you can still say hello, clearly you’re not panicking hard enough.

Weight training: Pick up pen. Take notes. Repeat repetitions for half an hour or so.

Cool down: Laugh. Go limp with relief. Place phone on cradle and hop on IM to chat with writing partner.

So, yeah, Darcy and I had our conference call this week with our editor (!!!) and agent (!!!) and it went very well. We have some edits (of course), but nothing huge. Our editor (!!!) discussed the concept they have for the cover (sounds totally adorable) and here’s an interesting tidbit:

It looks like we’ll publish with both our names on the cover and won’t need a combined pseudonym. How about that? So I guess Kyra’s pen name suggestion of “Charity and Darcy likes each other” is the one we’ll go with.

More or less.

Daydream believer

Last night while we were driving to swim lessons, Kyra sat quietly in the backseat, a serious scowl on her face. Andrew and I both asked her what was wrong. Then we asked again. And again. All at once she turned to us and said:

“I’m dreaming!”

We discovered, later, she meant daydreaming. She had a whole story going, with plot and characters, and, ahem, we were rudely interrupting that. While I combed her hair into ponytails for swimming, she told me she was dreaming about a step mom who locks the real mom in a spider room (filled with many spiders and webs).

“And the daughter has to save her mom?” I asked.

Serious nod.

According to Andrew, he has many ideas for stories but, “Writing them down is so hard. I’d rather wait for someone else to write them, then I can just go ahead and read.”

This, by the way, was how I became the brand new owner of a story idea called The Football Nerd. From his head to mine.

Now all I have to do is write it down.

Here’s how the story ends

I’ve been a bad blogger but a good productive writer. The fourth (at least, I think it’s the fourth) draft of MacKenna (The Fine Art of Holding Your Breath) is done. I’ve asked a few victims volunteers to read it over.

So I was finishing up the last pages–literally, when Andrew stumbled from his bedroom to his computer in the dining/computer/whatever room. He wanted me to make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Now, he’s quite capable of making his own small meals/snacks. He cooks on Scout camping trips, makes his own ramen and soup, and even wields a knife to cut up strawberries for us. He can spread peanut butter on some bread.

He insisted it would taste better if I made it.

And I told him that PB&J pretty much tastes the same no matter who makes it.

To which he said: “But, Mommy, you make yours with extra love.”

You gotta give the boy points for that.

I eventually finished editing.

He still made his own sandwich.