Patti O'Shea's Blog, page 165

Guilty Pleasure: Ancient Aliens

History Channel and H2 have a show called Ancient Aliens that qualifies as a guilty pleasure. For those of you who've never heard of the show or know what it's about, it's basically talking about how aliens visited Earth in the past. Each episode has a different focus, but it all revolves around aliens in the ancient past.

I will admit that I got hooked on this premise early. When I was in grade school, one of my relatives had a copy of Erich von Daniken's book Chariots of the Gods, and while we were visiting, I started reading it. I had to be 9 or so and I was fascinated.

That fascination never went away and when I stumbled on Ancient Aliens a while back, it became my favorite show.

This kind of show and the ideas presented make mainstream archaeologists go insane. Honestly, I don't care. Every time I watch the show plot bunnies leap to life in my brain, so I've decided it's writing related and this gives me a pass. Let the archaeologists cringe--I'm enjoying it.

Surfing Safari

I blogged a while back about how I develop the same interests my characters have and that my obsession usually leaves shortly after the hero and heroine do. I've got a new twist on this now and I'm not sure why it happened.

You see, I have this hero and heroine and the heroine's father is really into competitive surfing. As a young man he competed and now he just watches others compete.

In some odd quirk of osmosis, I've developed an interest in surfing.

Oh, believe me, I'm not getting on a surf board myself. My water phobia is a little too deeply ingrained (and I recently read about the surfer in Australia killed by a Great White while on his board). But I've found myself watching surfing videos and pinning surfing pictures. I have a whole board on Pinterest dedicated to surfing called Hang Ten. And right now I have a surfer as the wallpaper on my laptop.

I've kind of been shrugging it off. I'm a writer--weird stuff happens in my brain all the time. This is just a little bit stranger than usual.

London

In honor (or maybe I should say honour) of the Olympics, a little history on the host city of London.

Sensationalism

A little background before I get rolling about news and sensationalism. I graduated from the University of Minnesota's School of Journalism. My major was advertising copywriting, but I started in broadcast news before changing areas, and because of my education, I tend to analyze and look at the news and how it's presented in a different way than the general public.

The second thing I'll mention is that one of the reasons I became interested in journalism was reading an old, beat up copy of All the President's Men by Woodward and Bernstein as a young teenager. I think this is why I have a bias toward what journalism should and can be. It also explains why I'm pretty disillusioned by what we're seeing now, but that's a whole other post.

I probably don't have tell you the big story that got me going on this topic--the shooting in Colorado. I do understand the around the clock coverage and I actually agree with it. People will tune in at various times to find out the latest and it was big. My problem came when they started trotting out the experts when no one knew anything and they speculated. Then the speculation, which had pretty much no foundation, is talked about as if it's fact.

This isn't what had me aggravated, though. What triggered this post was an ESPN opinion piece about the NCAA sanctions on Penn State.

I'm not going to link to the article. You'll find out why in a few paragraphs.

The ESPN article referred to the NCAA president as a "generalissimo" and continued on with the South American dictator theme throughout--the inflammatory tone was definitely on purpose. You probably guessed already that the author's opinion was that the sanctions against PSU were wrong.

The NCAA sanction announcement was scheduled for 9am eastern time and the ESPN piece would have been written after that. By the time I read it at lunch break, comments had exploded through the stratosphere. The vast majority of the people were irate--understandably so. I didn't look at the number of tweets and Facebook sharing involved, but I'm betting it was in line with the volume of comments.

And this is exactly what the author wanted. He wanted the comments, he wanted the tweets with a link to the article, he wanted people to link via Facebook to his article. This is why I'm not linking to the article.

You see, the author of this opinion piece could have made his point in a way that people would have read without going ballistic. He could have said something like: "I don't condone child abuse in anyway and clearly the Penn State football program was out of control, but I believe the NCAA acted improperly for these reasons."

If he'd started out in a rational and reasonable manner, most people would have read his article with a more open mind, and even if they disagreed with him, there wouldn't be this avalanche of people calling for him to be fired or calling him a moron.

The author wasn't a moron and ESPN is not going to fire him. No way. He just generated an incredible amount of hits to their website with his inflammatory post.

This is why he wrote the post this way. He doesn't care whether or not anyone saw his point or understood his position. Nope, all he cared about was hyping up the language enough to anger people. He sensationalized his article, doing everything he could to guarantee the kind of reaction he received. It was done well, too. Despite the way I analyze news, it took me until the next day to see what he did and why. It also took me that long to figure out what, exactly, his opinion had been.

Because the language and imagery he used inflamed my emotions, too. He played me and everyone else. All in the name of ratings. Or in this case, hits.

This is what's wrong with news coverage. As big conglomerates bought the news outlets--TV, newspapers, web, radio, etc--it became all about the ratings, about selling copies and not about reporting the news. In fact, there is world news that is important and garners maybe a 15 second mention on US broadcasts--if it's reported at all. These are stories that won't pull in ratings or hits.

I seriously long for the world of journalism that I saw in All the President's Men. I'm not sure it ever really existed outside my imagination, but I still want it to be like that. Instead, we're beyond Don Henley's song Dirty Laundry. Well beyond.

Midnight Adventures

It was nearly midnight. I was tired and shutting down the computer for the night. While I waited for it to finish, I started putting stuff away. And then I walked to the bathroom, flipped on the light, and saw it.

Big, brownish-maroon, and crawling around behind the toilet. Palmetto bug.

I panicked. I flipped off the light and shut the bathroom door. Then I glanced down and realized the gap between the door and floor was big enough for him to sneak out. A new surge of panic ricocheted through my body. I can't leave him in there and deal with it in the morning. I have to deal with it now or he might be ON THE BED WITH ME WHILE I'M SLEEPING!

I needed a plan. From earlier encounters, I knew that spraying them with the Clorox Cleanup bleach stuff didn't stop them. That darn hard shell on their bodies. I needed the vacuum cleaner.

The first thing I did was put shoes on--shoes with toes, not sandals. Then I plugged in the vacuum cleaner and positioned it so it would roll smoothly into the bathroom. I didn't want it to get hooked on something while I'm trying to battle the biggest damn bug I've ever had inside. Just to be extra prepared, I grabbed the spray bottle with rubbing alcohol that I use to kill bugs. As ready as I was ever going to be, I opened the door and flipped on the light.

He was gone.

There was no relief. He was somewhere, and if I didn't find him tonight, I'd have to deal with him later. That's bad enough, but if you noticed the use of cap lock a few paragraphs earlier, you know my biggest fear. I have to find him; there is no sleeping until I do.

Luckily--or unluckily, depending on how you want to look at it--he was too big to have many hiding places. My best guess was he was in the linen closet. Behind the open bathroom door. This required more positioning of the vacuum cleaner and put me into a position with no escape. Still, there was no choice.

I whipped open the linen closet door. There he was. He charged toward me, bent on attack. I screamed (good thing I have no upstairs neighbor right now) and fired with the rubbing alcohol. He retreated.

Now I go in with the vacuum cleaner. You know how close I had to get in order to suck him up. I get him and then I worried about him crawling out of the hose. I continue to vacuum half the house, but at last I have to chance turning it off.

Shaking, covered with sweat, I sit down. Any chance of sleeping is gone. I finally, nervously, climb into bed after 2am. I spent the day on Sunday flinching any time I thought I detected motion. I also made a thorough and careful check of the bathroom every time I had to go in there.

Royal Costs

Interesting. I didn't know this about the lands.

Why Are We Here?

The other day, a friend was having a moment on Twitter. She questioned what was her life's purpose. Among the reasons I sent back to her was one that I have personal experience with--to help someone else find their path.

I always had stories and people in my head. If I was bored, I'd just sit in a corner and daydream. It never occurred to me, though, to write the stories. They were for me. But I believe that people came into my life that helped guide me to writing--or guide me back when I'd wandered away from it. And I did wander quite a few times.

The person who got me to start writing was a friend in 8th grade. We were 14 and she was writing a story using everyone in our class as characters. She had "me" do something I didn't like, she wouldn't change it, and so I was compelled to write myself. I didn't write real people--that felt wrong--so I grabbed some of the people in my head. If she hadn't come into my life, if she hadn't refused to change something I didn't like, would I have ever started to write?

Maybe because I believe someone else would have come in at some point to push me that same direction. Excuse me, I mean nudge. Surely the universe would never push. ::tongue firmly in cheek::

While I took a short story writing class in college, the demands of my course load curtailed my writing greatly. Okay, it stopped it completely. And somehow after graduation a course catalog from the nearby vo-tech was given to me. I'd never seen one before, and even if I had, I would have figured all the classes were auto mechanics or pastry chef things, nothing I had an interest in. And yet I looked at the class listing anyway and found a novel writing course.

Another nudge.

This happened time after time, again and again through the years. Before I began working on Ravyn's Flight, I hadn't done any writing in 2.5 years. Oh, I'd tried and tried, but nothing was there and I'd given up and moved on. And then I met someone online who was a writer and the next thing you know, I'm writing again.

Nudge.

None of these people are in my life anymore, but they didn't need to be. I believe they came to help me find my path and/or rediscover it when I lost it. They'll never know that I owe my writing to them.

So when I think about my friend wondering why she's here, it makes me wonder how many lives she's touched without being aware of it. How many people did she unknowingly nudge in the direction they were supposed to go? None of us can know the answer to that question, but maybe we don't need to. Maybe we just need to trust that our lives do have some higher purpose.

I Conquor My Countertop

Anyone who's followed this blog knows that I'm organizationally challenged. I can tell stories, but I won't since it's kind of embarrassing to admit how scattered I can be. I've been pinning organizational tips on Pinterest and one of them has actually helped.

Before I go any farther, this is just me talking about a product I like. It's not a paid endorsement and I bought this product myself.

Okay, so anyway, one of the areas I'm really anal about is the kitchen. I hate dishes in the sink or on the counter. In fact, it's probably the only room where I'm insanely attentive to putting things back where they belong ASAP. But in Atlanta, I haven't been able to eliminate paper piling up on the counter. It's been making me nuts.

Then I saw a pin about some Martha Stewart stick on the inside of a cabinet door organizing things. Yeah, great description, I know. I'll have a picture later. These Martha Stewart organizers were only available at Staples, but I decided to to check Amazon anyway, hoping for something similar.

I found it. Post-it Pockets!

I ordered immediately, had them 2 days later, and put them up. Instantly the little corner of clutter I hadn't been able to get rid of was gone! Hurrah!

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Here's a picture of them on the inside of my cabinet. I got the variety pack, which gave me three sizes, one each. The biggest size is on the bottom and I found it to be the most convenient. I used the long narrow one above it for the coupon I wanted to take to the grocery store.


The third one is inside another cabinet and I didn't take a picture of it. That one is more vertical than horizontal like the two pictured here.

I'm totally loving having the stuff off my counter, but still handy. The best part is that because they're Post-it, they'll come off the cabinet without causing problems.

It's kind of silly to get all excited about something like this--I know it. but anything that I can successfully organize is a win. Since my move to Atlanta, so much seems to have escaped my grasp, but finally I tamed one thing. It might be small, but it's a victory nonetheless and I'll take anything I can get.

I'm calling this a win.

European WINcation

A time lapse journey through Europe.

When Is It Really The End?

Art is never finished, only abandoned ~ Leonardo da Vinci

I would paraphrase this to say "No book is ever finished, it's just abandoned or published."

I'm going to talk a little bit about my revision process and when I send the manuscript out the door. Or in other words, when is done really done. I'll preface this post by saying every writing is different and you should do what works for you. Always do what works for you.

The process I use is one I adopted because I have an enormous problem with perfectionism. When I wrote, I would get a scene or maybe a chapter down and the revise the heck out of it. By the time I was done tinkering with it, I'd 1) drained all the life out of the writing and 2) gotten so sick of the flipping story, that I'd hop to another story.

I have a lot of one chapter stories started.

Finally, I had to take a good, hard look at what I was doing and I realized I couldn't allow myself to revise scene by scene or chapter by chapter--not if I ever wanted to finish a story. And so my process was born and I discovered something major along the way.

The rule I set for myself was I could do light revisions on what I'd written the previous day, but then I had to keep moving forward. My mantra became: It can all be fixed on revision. And I had to repeat it a lot.

There are writers who do their revisions as they go along and when they're done with a story, they truly are done. I'm not one of them and I can't be trusted to do it that way. My streak of perfectionism has only gotten worse, not better. However, I'm sure even these authors do a light run through before they send it off.

So my process is I write the first draft, with only light revisions on the scene or chapter I'm working on. If something big occurs to me in a later chapter that needs to be added in earlier, I make a note of it and I keep going.

When I finally reach the end of the first draft, I usually have a fair amount of things I want to fix. The major thing I learned as I wrote Ravyn's Flight? I learned that if I'd stopped and gone back to fix the first big thing that needed fixing, I would have had to go back a few more times to add in the other big stuff that popped up later. By waiting, I only had to go back and do the major revision work once.

In this first book, the first revision run was lengthy and it was extensive, but I learned a lot.

After round one of revisions came round two. On my early books, this was still a lot of work because my writing buddies always saw stuff I didn't, but after my first couple of books, this became less intensive. The nice thing about writing a few stories is how much you learn every step of the way. That's why I always recommend people try to write full stories. The middle will teach you different things than the beginning and the end has completely different lessons and so do revisions, etc.

Okay, so on the first book, the second round of revisions were also time consuming and extensive, but now the focus on round two for me is mostly on fixing transitions, smoothing sentences, cutting those paragraphs that I love, but that aren't needed in the story. Things like this.

When this is done, I do a polishing run. At this point, it's pretty light stuff and it goes fairly quickly. Then, no matter how great the temptation, that sucker is gone.

I almost never touch the manuscript while I'm waiting to hear back from my editor about her suggested revisions. I can only remember one time I violated this rule, but it was because as I was thinking about the story, a plot hole jumped out at me. I wanted to fix it before I forgot the solution. But normally I let the story rest for a while. This gives me a fresh perspective when I do get my editorial revisions and it also allows me to see things I couldn't spot while I was too close to the work.

I've almost always only gotten two weeks to finish editorial revisions, so there isn't time to over work the text.

After this comes copy edits where the story is gone over line by line for logic flaws, continuity issues, or grammatical problems. I try to turn in a very clean manuscript as far as grammar goes because I want the copy editor focused on the story itself.

Next comes the galleys, which are test prints of the book. No big changes can be made here unless it's extremely critical because every fix costs money unless it's a typo on the printer's part.

At this point, the book is finally done. Or maybe I should say the book is forcibly wrested from my hands and published. :-)