Blog Trek

Turning over a new leaf and Plodding on with the Revisions

I'm determined to get back into regular blogging mode.  My family, friends and my own health issues and obligations have placed Blog Trek on a back burner over the last few months.  Add my other have-to-do/non-negotiables, such as oh--Work--and there are the reasons I have been falling down on the Blogging Job.

I'm trying hard to avoid burn-out while waiting for my second foot surgery.  My son's surgery is on hold pending some additional tests.  I guess part of the reason I feel so mentally as well as physically under-par is that the stress of waiting for something that should have happened already definitely takes a toll.

In the meantime, I'm working on "Rose Tattoo."  The first half of the book relies heavily on the only version that survived my many moves through 3 states.  At first that seemed like a relief, but now it feels like more of a burden.  My writing style has changed, the plot has changed, and I'm playing clean-up a lot more than I even envisioned.  It's like doing a first draft, second innings, instead of a second draft. 

Every time I go back into the chapters I tinker around and make things better, but between splitting chapters up, changing the characters' dialogue and internal monologues and even some of the backdrops, I have only managed to work my way through 13 chapters.  As I move from scene to scene, I mentally congratulate myself for getting out of Kaylen's condo (color-scheme changed as well as minors in layout,) out of Sam's restaurant (completely remodeled during the process,) off Brian's boat (at least that stayed mostly the same) and out of the ER.  I feel like I'm on a journey of deja vu, rediscovery and reinvention all at the same time.

And then there's the Day Job, which is calling my name before I'm faxing a report late in the evening.  Time to stop Blogging and start writing, but not on my novel.

Multi-tasking, Anyone?

There's an old adage about when you want something done, go find a busy person and ask them to do it.

That's me.  I somehow manage to cram as many things into a day as is humanly possible, and then I go into the inhuman territory and take on more.  This results in stupid things happening, like just now when I emailed a cover letter to the new AWG newsletter editor without attaching the edited article, then couldn't find the article because I had forgotten to save it to "My Documents" instead of leaving it in some nameless temporary internet file.

Right now, I have so much paper hanging around in my office that I don't think I'll ever see the bottom of it, even if I suddenly found I didn't have to work for the next 6 months.  Tax time is right around the corner, and I have to not only get my own itemized taxes done, but deal with my aunt's--in another country.  I have to return a box of clothes I sent her, because customs opened it, wanted to charge $18.83 in duty, and she couldn't figure out the problem until the box had already been sent back to me.  The clothes are fall weight, and now she needs winter items.  Can I find the original receipt, which I know I kept?  No.  I have scoured said office without any success.  I have one more place to look before I have to admit defeat and return everything for a store credit instead of a refund. 

The little inconveniences of life.

In the middle of all this, I am inputting the rest of ALL THAT GLITTERS and editing as I go.  I have a blurb and a first chapter of SWIFT JUSTICE to edit and prepare for the critique group meeting this coming Sunday.  I  finished a newsletter to put into the Christmas cards, but haven't put in the changes after I edited it, so no cards have gone out.  I still have a couple of presents to buy. 

Now, what else could I find to work on this week?

Keeping a Few Irons in the Fire

I've been writing instead of blogging lately.  When time is scarce, working on the novel comes first. 

I finished the first draft of ROSE TATTOO and started a sequel.  The story came out of nowhere.  An old friend came into town on Saturday and asked me where I get my ideas.  I told her from a lot of places, and that's the truth.  I never know when or where inspiration is going to strike, and sometimes it's nebulous, like an image in the mist.  Must be the mists in my mind (probably because I'm getting older and a lot of things, like my eyesight, are misting up.)  I suddenly got a vision of my main character and one of the secondary characters on his boat.  From there, I started writing and haven't stopped yet, except to go to work and take care of the darn paperwork that results.

I'm also working on a partial.  That story has already been developed.  It just needs tweaking before I send it out. 

I've got to keep several pieces in various stages of development.  Can't rest on my laurels with TATTOO, especially when the second draft needs to be tackled.  But leaving it alone for a couple of weeks is something I have to do in order to gain some detachment from it.  The story is too close and too fresh in my mind to start revisions.

Hence the other projects.  Hence no spare time to blog.

When to pop the cork

I wonder how many people have bottles of wine hidden away, waiting for the "First?"  First sale, first publication, first screenplay completed, first screenplay optioned, etc., etc.

I have one, sitting in my wine rack.  My son has one in his kitchen.  Vikk, I recently discovered, has one. 

Funnily enough, none of us has ever decided that the BIG DAY has arrived when we'll pop the cork. 

Or maybe, we're afraid that when we eventually do, the wine will be vinegar from waiting too long, or making too many moves in hot vehicles while sitting in expectation of the right day, the right event, and the decision that nothing could eclipse that particular occasion.

You'd think we could never buy another bottle of wine for the next BIG DAY.

I think we're either delusional about our abilities to transcend any contracts, screenings or kudos from others or we're hoping for an even bigger BIG DAY.

Hope springs eternal.

Relationships

Looking at current events lately, I saw that Renee Zellwiger (sic?) and Kenny Chesney split because one wanted children and the other didn't.  Wouldn't you think that was something they might have at least thought about discussing BEFORE they got married?

"Starting Over" has degenerated from a show with a lot of promise to a sad, boring and laughable reality show where drama has to be created by selecting the biggest losers with the most complex problems, real or imagined, and blowing everything out of proportion to create drama--the storm in the tea cup.  Now the producers have added couples to the equation, and they are just as disfunctional in every way as the women selected for "The House."  You would think none of these people had any backbone in any area of their lives at all.  At the drop of a hat, the whole show turns into a cryingfest.

It seems in order to get into "The House" you must have a background of molestation, rape, incest, infidelity or a dysfunctional relationship with a famous sibling.  The first season was great--the women were strong, frequently had goals that were achievable but didn't know how to go about working toward them, let alone achieving them.  Yes, there was crying, but it wasn't continuous and encouraged by the life coaches like it is now.  The humiliation started with a bang with the second set of women, who were roped together and sent out in public, made to wear necklaces of shame with all their shortcomings listed and asked to perform really demeaning and stupid tasks in the name of getting everything out and touching bottom so they could rise to the top, supposedly.

Now, these people couldn't be cured except with lengthy psychotherapy, which goes along with the fact that now, a psychologist has been added, and he has to be a man, to introduce the women back into a society where there are two genders and teach them to interact with male authority figures again. 

Can't we go back to having fun with lunch, watching people overcome obstacles that most of us deal with in our everyday lives?  Do we have to watch the positively bottom of the barrel people, such as the supposed drunk/drug addict having an orchestrated melt-down, attended by the new mentor-graduate instead of dragging Dr. Stan out of bed and making him pick her up and drive her over to a detox/rehab clinic so "the other women in the house can feel safe?"  The woman who threw some tiny items (one of which I believe was a fork, which was directed at the coffee table and not her fellow "housemates") was made out to be violent.  Let me tell you, if she was violent, she would have thrown something much larger or at least sharper, and got physical into the bargain.  Again, the storm in the tea cup.

Daytime T.V. hasn't advanced any further in the last twenty years, and it's really too bad the execs feel that women watching are so desperately in need of entertainment that they will suspend belief and watch this drivel.

Writers are held to such a higher standard.  If we try to contrive a plot outcome, we are held to task by our critique groups, editors, agents and if published, readers.  Yet these supposed reality plots are conceived and laid out before millions on a daily basis, and these viewers evidently lap all of it up, since "Starting Over" has won Emmys. 

It just makes me shake my head, rather like over Renee and Kenny not discussing whether or not to have children before saying "I do."  Now there's something else unbelievable that we're expected to swallow.

Rejections in the electronic age

I got what might be a record for speedy rejections.  I sent off a manuscript on Sunday afternoon.  Within 2 hours, I had a confirmation of receipt, and not an automated one, either.  The following afternoon, my entire manuscript got rejected.

I appreciate the speedy response, I really do, although I have to wonder whether more than about 1 page of my manuscript was read.  Vikk wondered if any of it got printed out or whether it was read off the screen.  I have no idea, but I wonder if in the name of expediency and efficiency, using the computer screen to review a novel isn't doing the work an injustice.  It's hard to get the scope of something bigger than a blog when all you are looking at is one small section.  Perhaps I should now be writing with that in mind, and not thinking in terms of printed pages. 

When I review my work, I have to have a hard copy.  I can assure myself I did get all my ducks in a row, so to speak, and that the foreshadowing a couple of pages or even half a chapter earlier has been followed up on and resolved.  I do a more in-depth critique than when I edit on-screen. 

The electronic age is both a blessing and a curse.  No more manuscripts lurking in slush piles on editors' desks or in dank, cobweb-ridden corners.  Just get them emailed, scan a page or two, and then deal with them.  No more manilla envelopes filled with stamps for the life-blood of the writer to be returned inside.  No more feeling the weight of the tome and appreciating how hard the writer worked to prepare the package.  No more real time guilt. 

It's faster, easier and more humane, perhaps.

As I said, I have no particular feelings one way or the other about this right now.  The editor was kind enough to spend time giving me a critique and to let me know I had talent and that my work was almost technically perfect.  She also told me she would be interested in viewing other manuscripts from me.

I have to finish my revisions of ROSE TATTOO before I can consider revising anything else for the path to electronic rejection.  TATTOO will be going out the old-fashioned way--via snail mail, with a stamped, manilla envelope attached.  I want some spider to have the opportunity to spin a web above my tome.  It's a tradition.

More Little Trials (and little stinkers)

Since arriving back from New York, I seem to have been in Hell rather than in Southern California. 

A pack of skunks (or whatever the correct term is for a number of them) has taken up residence under the house.  Since they are nocturnal, they pick the middle of the night to have fights, spray, squeak and scratch themselves (this seems to be done in the vicinity of the floor heater, so the resulting noise, which sounds like someone beating on a hollow tin drum, can be better sent up into the house.)

My landlord suggested calling Animal Control for ideas on who to call to get rid of them.  I have been researching on the Net and it seems that they don't like bright lights and the easiest way to get rid of them is to block up their holes at night when they're out trolling the neighborhood for food.  I liked better the idea of sealing up all the surrounding area with wire and making a funnel of wire to attach to their holes--larger at the base and smaller at the top, so when they squeeze out, they can't get back in. 

All of this will require work, whether it's done by a new handyman (preferable) or by my son and me next weekend, since my landlord lives in Seattle and can't easily bop on over to take care of the problem.  He's going to find a new handyman, and if that happens quickly enough, then I won't have to solve the problem myself.  I suppose until that time I could try taking the old Tylenol PM and spending half the morning trying to wake up.  That would at least give me more than two hours sleep at a stretch, which is what I have had for the last three nights, thanks to the squeaking, fighting, etc.

Once I have the little stinkers out from under the house, my son and I will be making the rounds to close off any holes under the perimeter fence, too.  My next door neighbor has outdoor cats who he feeds twice a day.  The skunks all know this and go over to dine.  He might as well hang out a neon sign that says "Skunk Cafe," because they even run across the street and squeeze under the gate to get to their tasty meals.  They also cut through my yard to achieve their goal, digging holes under the chain link fence, despite my efforts to fill in the holes and then dam them with rocks and bricks.  I am just going to have to go around with the wire instead.  Since this is a hillside lot, that involves a few gymnastics, but at least I get my exercise for the day.

To cut to another subject, I officially assumed the role of Volunteer Development Coordinator today for the Alameda Writers Group.  I'm sure it will be a challenge, but I do enjoy those, and I was the one who opened my mouth and said I'd like to take it on.  At the very least, it will make me more organized in my other daily activities.  I must figure out a way to eliminate the clutter in my office this year.  It's one of my biggest goals, but always seems to get defeated by one thing or another.  The last obstacle was the base of the bottom draw of my two drawer lateral file falling out because I had placed too many heavy file folders into it.  The result was that everything had to be put back into the plastic containers that I had finally cleared from the available floor space.  Now I walk in an trip over them or stub my toe and swear like a sailor.  My son tried to fix the problem with wood glue, but then decided he had to drill in screws.  Of course, my power drill had just broken after many years of use, so I had to buy another one in preparation for his next community service project at my home (he pays off his car insurance debt to me by acting as my gopher and all-around handyman/assistant.)

As for the writing, well it is progressing.  I have been tweaking one new chapter I added.  I'm still not completely happy with it, but the critique group will be helpful in giving me input on where they feel it's still lacking.  The further I get into this book, the more I see why it didn't sell when it was submitted through my agent.  Although it was liked by everyone who read it, they all felt it lacking.  The plot should be pretty linear, but the repercussions of the initial scene are like the ripples on a lake after a pebble is cast into it--they keep spreading wider and wider.  No sooner do I think I have everything shored up and dealt with than another potential problem crops up, hence the added chapter.  Perhaps the secondary character who features prominenty in the chapter will end up playing a bigger role during this revision than in the original manuscript.  Certainly it looks like increasing the times the reader is in his POV are not only necessary but crucial to understanding the male protagonist of the story better, and why he acts the way he does.

Writing is always a challenge.  The speaker at our monthly meeting today said that he heard somewhere that if the writer likes writing, then he or she may not be a good writer.  If that's the case, then I guess I am a not a good writer, because the challenge is half the fun as well as the frustration of being a writer.  We create all these characters in our heads and set them off on their converging paths to fullfillment, destruction, victory, defeat and all those other fates over which we have total control.  It's quite a responsibility, being in complete charge of their fates.  I suppose maybe writers are absolute control freaks at their worst.  Or is that at their best?

If only there were 26 hours in a day

Saturday has finally arrived.  I'm tired.  Still tired, despite lounging on the couch all yesterday evening, and sitting through a very informative and enjoyable meeting of the Alameda Writers' Group this morning. 

The only writing I have done for most of the last week has been work-related, but I have managed to almost finish critiquing the 50 page manuscript I downloaded for the novel SIG meeting next Sunday, and I even finished revising the first three chapters of my own manuscript.  I did those by forcing myself to sit down to eat breakfast and critiquing while I ate, instead of stuffing food into my mouth while running around getting ready for the day's work.  It actually worked out, which somewhat surprised me, although it was a real struggle to stop when I finished eating. 

One of these days, I will be able to forget about going out that door and driving to treat patients.  One of these days, I will be able to forget about writing mounds of paperwork to go with those patients.  That day will be truly a red-letter day, but if I can't find even 15 mins. a day to work on my own manuscripts, I will never see that day dawn. 

One of the speakers today, published, working as a writing instructor at UCLA and with a small child and a family to consider, told us she only has one hour a day to write.  She also plots while walking her 90 pound dog around Elysian Park. 

We share the same frustrations and use the same methods for plotting or plot issues.  I no longer have a small child or a family to consider, but the frustrations of time constraints plague me equally due to the nature of my profession.  Friday I put in  a 9 hour day with a 45 min. break for lunch that included calling my afternoon patients to confirm their appointments.  My day started at 5:30AM when I rolled out of bed, fed the pets, let the dog out, and started the rest of the miscellaneous chores that take up the time from first light until I headed out the door at 7:40AM.  My first patient was at 8AM, my last patient at 5:00PM.  By the time I arrived home, it was 6:30PM and all I wanted to do was kick off my shoes and lie down, but the dog needed walking and my stomach needed food.  At times like these, I wish I did have someone waiting at home with a hug, a comforting smile and hopefully, a hot meal. 

Miracles do happen.  I can only hope.

Taking advantage of those little unexpected chunks of spare time

I'm back. Had to work, work, work last week and also complete my chapters to email out to the other members of the critique group. I got the list of members emailed to me. I saw names I had never seen yet at the meetings. Last month we only had 4 people turn up to critique the pages. Yes, they were very heavy going, and no, I wouldn't buy the book, but surely more than 4 of us could have completed the laborious task and turned up for the meeting. Seems like most of that long list of names could be deleted. Maybe that's why the pages are sent through email, so a lot of printing isn't done for nothing.

All work and no play make me into a dull girl, supposedly, but at the end of the week, I actually found myself with energy to spare. It's amazing what writing does to me--less sleep but more productivity. Of course, the first patient of the day gets my "doublespeak" as my tongue doesn't catch up with my brain until about 10:30AM, even with 2 cups of coffee under my belt. Whether that's because I have diluted my great Gevalia coffee with off-the-grocery-store-shelf decaf. or not, I'm not sure.

By the time I completed the pages, I was in full revision mode. I could probably have sat up all night and slashed the entire manuscript, but I got real about midnight and took the higher road, falling into bed and sleeping fitfully because my brain kept right on working, awakening me at 2:30AM to inform me I had forgotten a small detail that might change the third chapter. I also booted up the computer on 2 occasions patients canceled and I happened to be at home (first one of the morning or the afternoon) and got more done.

Vikk always talks about me being able to get to work 10 mins. early, whipping out a spiral leaf notebook in the parking lot and spending the time writing, still managing to make it to the time clock at 8:00AM. Those days are gone, because a) I don't write in long hand any longer unless I am forced to put down some phrase that has popped into my head without my urging b) I don't have a full-time permanent position that I have to get to at the same hour every day c) I no longer had a family to contend with, sapping up my time and my energy half the day d) because I work really irregular hours with unexpected gaps from canceling patients I frequently use the unexpected "down" time to complete notes, make phone calls or schedule changes, fax etc.,etc. In place of those 10 mins. I take whatever chunks of time I can find during the day or the evening and use the computer.

Trying to find time to write is always a challenge unless you are sitting at home one welfare or are independently wealthy and with lots of time on your hands. It's like walking a tightrope and trying not to fall off because there is certainly no net down below. It reminds me of "The Golden Child," starring Eddie Murphy. He is trying to get across what look like steps to get to where he will pick up a knife. At first he's very cocksure of himself, until he realizes that the steps are suspended in air and very unstable. He drops a coin to see how far down bottom is, only to find that there is no ground below at all.

That's life in general--flying without a net.

Life, books, and the never-ending cycle of things to do

Heather talks about the multiple tasks she's doing while still trying to keep up with her day job and daily life. I totally understand. It seems to be the lot of the writer. No matter how many hours you manage to free up to write, the tasks fall in on you like the sudden loosening of the parted Red Sea. Suddenly you're flooded, overwhelmed with things to do. Part of that is because writing is only one part of the job of a writer. I recently finished my third travel book and didn't have any more project deadlines, so--silly me--I thought I'd have time to relax and focus on tasks I'd been putting off for a year or more. Not so.

Divided Loyalties, my e-book, was scheduled for launch August 7 and the requests for blurbs, author interview material, and other items poured in from the publisher. Then the editor for the second travel book wrote requesting a quick turnaround on a publicity/marketing proposal. My to-do list contined to grow.

Now that Divided Loyalties is out and available (Awe-Struck E-Books), I'm lost in the mire of publicity and promotions. Several opportunities have opened up and I must work fast to get everything done. There's all the info for a special annual author yearbook to prepare, a signing and talk for an Educator's Appreciation Weekend in October at Borders to prepare for and the news that Divided Loyalties will now be available in printt later this fall to fold into the promotions.

And then there's the whole thing of having a website. What to do. My name has no cache. The novel's name had been snatched up by someone in New Jersey for the next three years. What to do? I wanted something that would feed into the novel or be a result of the nove. After a busy weekend I came up with a promotion campaign that has been inspired by the book and the actions taken by the characters. The name of the website will is TeensTakeAction.com The site will highlight and encourage teens to take action socially and/or politically. Great, right? Well, now I need a logo, have to develop a contest, build the website, get the discussions questions written to be included at the back of the book, find news of teens who are taking action, and prepare the publicity.

In the meantime I'm looking at least one of the travel books appearing in March, maybe two. And there's the day job and helping my elderly parents and caring for the three canines. . . and the list goes on.

So, Heather, blog on and know that it never ends. Oops, I forgot I have to prepare for the critique group tonight.

Did I mention the blogging over at Down the Writer's Path?