Rachael Herron's Blog, page 45

I Love a List

1. A Dream I Had (NO! Come back! Please?) 

In the dream, I am walking past a payphone. It rings. I answer. My (deceased) little mama is on the other end. 

"What's it like where you are?" I ask, when I get over my shock.

"It's nice," she says. "It's not anything like you'd imagine, though. I like it." 

"Can you see me all the time?" Thinking, oh, crap.

"Well, I guess I could if I needed to, but I don't." 

Whew. I hand the phone to a passerby. "Hey, can you hear anyone on this line?" 

Guy listens. "Yeah," he says, handing it back. "It's your mom." 

"Mom!" I say. "You're really there! Why don't you ever call me?" 

She answers in exasperation, "Landline, Rachael. We can only call on landlines, and you got rid of yours." 

It was really a sweet dream. And I was happy to know she likes where she is. (And yes, we got rid of our landline. As a 911 dispatcher who preaches that you should always have one, and always call from it for faster and more accurate service, I was pretty unhappy when California shut off the thing that allowed all landlines to call 911, with or without service. Now it's $25/month just to have service to call 911 and nothing else. I'm not paying $300 a year for a service I can call on my cell phone (with, granted, a delay).)

2. What Lala sends me while I'm at work in the middle of the night. I believe this is cruel and unusual. 

Apparently Digit got on the couch and stared at Clementine (who was terrified of him, as usual) for ten minutes before curling up, TOUCHING her. Gah. I can't stand it. The ear! Digit is an old softie now. I barely recognize him. I have not even one healing scar right now. Who is this cat? 

3. Easy Thai Red Curry. 

I'm obsessed with red curry right now. Obsessed. This is a recipe I modified from somewhere (?), and it is SO EASY and SO FAST and SO GOOD. And if you make it with chickpeas instead of chicken, it's vegan! (I made it for a dinner party which needed to be gluten-free, dairy-free, and vegetarian. No small task. Oh! Link came from Mary-Heather, that's right.)

Chop a chicken breast or two, toss in a large heavy skillet over medium heat in olive oil and some salt until it goes white and not scary-looking (but don't overcook it. Whatever that means). Set meat aside. In same pan, heat 1tbs coconut oil. Add 2 chopped leeks, a chopped red pepper, some salt and pepper. Cover and cook on medium heat until veggies have softened, maybe 5 minutes. Add 2 tsp(ish) of minced garlic (or more!) and a tsp of grated ginger (or more!).* Add 1-2 tbs of red curry paste (not powder. For this you want the paste. I like Mae Ploy). Stir to coat, cook another 5 minutes. Add half a cup chopped sugar snap peas (swoon), a 14oz can of full-fat coconut milk, and the cooked chicken. Raise heat to boil, then lower to simmer. At the end, throw in a good handful of chopped cilantro. 

Serve on cauliflower rice (or normal rice, but dude, cauliflower rice doesn't get soggy and it's so good and easy. You can chop it in your food processor while the curry is cooking, and BAM. 30 minute meal). 

* I use minced garlic and chopped ginger because I'm lazy. Here's the red curry paste I like. I only use 1 tbs in this recipe because I'm sensitive to heat, and this stuff is spicy. 

Guest Post - Gigi Pandian

Gigi is one of my sweetest and smartest writer friends, and I adore her. She's a member of PensFatales, and I'm more than honored to host her (and a giveaway!) today at Yarnagogo.

 

10
Good Things That Wouldn’t Have Happened Without A Cancer Diagnosis -- Including
Having My New Book Out Today!

By
Gigi Pandian

 I received the news the month after my
36th birthday. Aggressive breast cancer. In the midst of a flurry of surgeries
and treatments, something unexpected happened. It’s been two years and two
months since my diagnosis -- and my life is even more amazing than I ever
imagined before being diagnosed with
cancer. And today, it’s even better still: my mystery novel, Artifact, comes out from Henery
Press.

It’s crazy, but cancer has a way of
making you see the things that are important in life with crystal clear precision.
I’m incredibly fortunate that my cancer was caught early and my treatments were
successful. But I’m also living with a very high risk of recurrence – which
serves as a daily reminder to live life to the fullest.

This wasn’t how my life was supposed to
go. I was hard at work writing mystery novels, was thrilled to have found a
wonderful tribe of writers, and had recently gotten married and bought a house.
Within one day, my worries no longer included fitting in a café writing date
into my work schedule or whether I should accept a freelance design gig.
Instead, my life was overwhelmed with learning about surgeons, tumors, and
chemotherapy drugs, and when I left the house it wasn’t to go on a photo shoot
but to go to the hospital.

As soon as the shock wore off, I knew I
wasn’t doing to lie on the couch feeling sorry for myself (although watching Murder She Wrote and Matlock can be pretty damn great when
recovering from a chemo session). My immune system was so shot that I couldn’t
have visitors, so I was set up to work from home. When I wasn’t working, I
needed a project to focus on or I knew I’d go crazy.

My agent had been pitching my first novel
to publishers, but publishing moves SLOWLY. Since the book had already received
accolades, I knew it was ready to be out in the world. I’d never previously
considered self-publishing, but cancer showed me what I wanted out of my
writing: to have fun crafting stories (done), find a circle of fantastic writer
friends (done), and to share my stories with the world -- that unfulfilled last
item was what I decided to pursue during my full year of cancer treatments.

As soon as I made that decision,
everything fell into place. By the end of my year of treatments, I had a
stronger bond with my friends and loved ones, was holding my published mystery
novel in my hands, and was feeling healthier than ever. And one year later, I’m
going strong and have a 3-book deal from a wonderful publisher.

I would never wish cancer on anyone, but
if you’re dealt a lousy hand you might as well turn it on its head and make the
best of it.

Here are 10 things that
wouldn’t have happened without my diagnosis:

1. Getting my priorities straight. Friends, family, and fulfillment. I
used to worry about things that now seem stupid and irrelevant. Let me
tell you: it’s not worth it.

Here’s
a picture of my amazing writers group, the Pens Fatales – that’s me and Rachael
in the front row. We hardly ever manage to get the whole group together. The
event that made everyone make the effort to get together at the same time was
my cancer diagnosis. Right before this photo was taken, they took me wig
shopping to make buying a chemo wig a fun
rather than depressing shopping excursion!

2. Going on those trips I was putting off. London, Lisbon, Paris, and Prague. I’ve
always been a traveler, but as life got busier I traveled less and less.
No more. If I want to go somewhere, I’m planning and making it work. It’s
not always easy, but it’s so worth it.

 3. Savoring the small things. A walk through the foggy hills. A
great cup of coffee. Laughing at a bad TV show with the husband. I no
longer take these things for granted. (OK, maybe I occasionally forget and
take things for granted, but then I slap myself and remember to savor
them!)

 4. Learning to cook. It’s so much easier than I thought
it would be! Over the course of a year, small steps added up into being
someone who cooks delicious homemade meals every day.

 5. Taking
care of my body.
Aside from a few side effects that remind me I survived breast cancer, I’m
feeling healthier than ever, because I’m taking care of myself. I adore
green smoothies! They’re seriously much more delicious than you’d imagine
if you’ve never tried one.

 6. Creating a publishing plan. I’d been a bit aimless with my
writing before cancer. I’d joined writers groups and found an agent, but I
hadn’t learned more about publishing itself. But if I’m going to take on a
project, I’m going to do it right. Chemo was an excuse to do things
slowly, but not do things poorly. Because I formed my own imprint and
followed all the steps of traditional publishing, I was treated
professionally and received reviews including several that compare my
writing to that of my favorite author, Elizabeth Peters, and are
incredibly meaningful to me. (You can read more self-publishing details here,
if you’re interested in what goes into it.)

 7. Holding my mystery novel in my hands.
Such a thrill! I
expect this would have happened someday, but because of taking action, I
got to hold my book in my hands the month I was done with cancer
treatments.  

 8. Being
surrounded by dozens of friends at my book launch party. Independent bookstore A Great Good
Place for Books hosted my book launch party. I served whisky from the
region of the Highlands of Scotland where the Artifact takes place, and throughout the evening fifty people
stopped by the cozy Oakland bookstore. I’m glad I took pictures, because
the evening was such a blur -- mostly because of seeing so many friends,
not the whisky! 

9. Receiving book blurb from one of my all-time
favorite authors. The
reason this is something that wouldn’t have happened if it hadn’t been for
my diagnosis is because I would never have had the courage to ask for this
if I hadn’t decided to live with no fear.

I
emailed mystery novelist Aaron Elkins, who I had never met but whose books I’ve
loved since I was a teenager, to ask for a book blurb. I knew he rarely read
books by new authors, but I figured I had nothing to lose. I was surprised that
he both agreed to check out the book and gave me an amazing blurb! Before the
book was out, I already felt like I’d made it. It had a cascading effect.
Because I’d introduced myself, we got to know each other and I had the
opportunity to step in to conduct his Lifetime Achievement Award interview at
the Malice Domestic mystery convention.  

 10. Signing a 3-book deal for my Jaya
Jones treasure hunt mystery series. Because of everything I’d done to with my book, I attracted
the attention of a publisher who was excited about the whole series. I’m
ecstatic to have signed with such a great publisher and have more time to
write. 

My takeaway is to remember to live like
you’re dying. Don’t put things off. Turn “someday” into today. What have you
always wanted to do? Do it. Yes, it’s
tough. But it’s worth it.

L eave a comment below about something you’ve always
wanted to do and we’ll enter you to win a copy of Artifact.

Artifact: A Jaya Jones Treasure
Hunt Mystery

Historian Jaya Jones
discovers the secrets of a lost Indian treasure may be hidden in a Scottish
legend from the days of the British Raj. But she’s not the only one on the
trail.

From San Francisco to London to the Highlands of Scotland, Jaya must
evade a shadowy stalker as she follows hints from the hastily scrawled note of
her dead lover to a remote archaeological dig. Helping her decipher the cryptic
clues are her magician best friend, a devastatingly handsome art historian with
something to hide, and a charming archaeologist running for his life.

More information: http://gigipandian.com/books-stories/

Gigi Pandian is the
child of cultural anthropologists from New Mexico and the southern tip of
India. After being dragged around the world during her childhood, she tried to
escape her fate when she left a PhD program in favor of art school. But
adventurous academic characters wouldn’t stay out of her head. Thus was born
the Jaya Jones Treasure Hunt mystery series. Find Gigi online at www.gigipandian.com (or Facebook, Twitter, or Pinterest …)

Sign up for Gigi’s email newsletter to
receive a free, exclusive Halloween-themed short story in the Jaya Jones
Treasure Hunt Mystery Series this October: http://gigipandian.com/newsletter/. 

RWA 2013

Really? I left that crazy-faced picture at the top of my blog for that long? Ouch. 

Here's a better crazy face (mine, not theirs): 

Twinz! Charlie! You know you're  lucky if you're out with the cutest family in Atlanta. I loved being able to see Carrie and Cathy, especially as I won't be allowed to see Cathy until she's pregnant again with #3 because the only time I've ever spent with her in person was when she was pregnant with #1 and #2. 

BIG NEWS: 

Pack Up the Moon is available for preorder! I just discovered it! I can't wait to reveal the cover to you, because it is truly the prettiest cover I think I've ever seen, but in case you're excited LIKE I AM about the book of my heart, you can preorder here: 

Amazon, Powells (other vendors will be added as I find them)

Hey, have I mentioned it in a while? I have a newsletter which doesn't go out often, but that I'd love to send to you. I also love being on Twitter and would love to chat with you there. I Facebook -- I can only say that I am there. Sometimes. 

RWA 2013

. . . was wonderful. This was my sixth (!!) Romance Writers of America National Conference, and I learned soooo much. Publishing is changing fast, and we writers haven't been quite sure of the ground under our feet for a couple of years. The last two conventions were unnerving for many of us. This year, the mood was way more positive and upbeat.

And I was upbeat as I went to my new publisher's party (Penguin-NAL). Seriously, I can think of little I like more than walking into a professional cocktail party at which I know almost no one . . . Wait. No. I was terrified, just as I always am. 

This year, though, was different in that I honestly didn't think about the terror. I literally just got dressed up and then went.

(Every dress is Modcloth. I might have a wee dress problem there. I love how this one made me feel like the Empire State Building. Every time I work overtime I treat myself to a dress. OVERTIME ON THURSDAY, YO.) 

So I walked in and headed straight for the only person I did know (Carolyn Jewel) who knows everyone and introduced me to them. Then I confessed to everyone I met, "I know almost no one here." They all either confessed the same and/or introduced me to other people. Writers are a weird group--most of us want to be known, thus the extroversion which is pushing your book in which you bare your heart and soul (see above) on strangers, and we also just want to be in front of our computers/notebooks, alone, talking to no one but the imaginary friends we make up. Possibly ever again. 

Oooh! And I met Deborah Cooke, whom I've known on Rav writer forums forever, but neither of us "recognized" each other (I would have, had she been wearing her Ravatar name, which we should all probably do every day). It was fine, though -- we made friends in this other atmosphere because I was nervous and she was Canadian. Those amazing Canadians are good with all the jittery folks.  (Check out her knitting novel, which I just bought myself. Ooh!) 

The rest of RWA I spent either writing or learning. I swear. There were hardly any pillow fights at ALL. 

My gorgeous darlins: Sophie Littlefield, AJ Larrieu, and Vanessa Kier. (And wedged in there, moi, still wearing my badge because I used it as my purse. I am straight klassy-with-a-K.) 

The Only Two Things You Must To Do To Be a Writer

There are only two things you must do if you really, truly want to be a writer. 

1. Write. 

We can talk it to death (and let's do! Writers love to talk about writing and process and where and when and pens and paper and all of it), but it comes down to this: You have to write. You don't have to do it for long. I've been relearning lately that I can get 500 words written on a 15 minute break -- and if you do that four times in a day? 2000 words! Your mileage may vary, but you'll be surprised what you can do in a short amount of time. And remember, you don't have to do it well. First drafts are automatically garbage. But you do have to write. 

I seriously hit PhotoBooth instead of WriteOrDie (the logos look similar) and I shot this snap before I knew what I was doing. This is writing. It isn't pretty. 

I like to get my writing done first thing, ideally. At my day job, I write on my breaks, when I can. But on my days off from work, the first thing I do is eat two eggs for some needed word-writin' stamina, and then I get in the car and drive to the cafe for my caffeine. (I love my cafe so much. It's my office, really. I say hi to my "coworkers" (the baristas and the other patrons) and then I put in my earphones and ignore everyone, but when I come out of the writing haze, there are people to smile at, to chat with. When I leave, everyone says, "'Bye, Rachael!" It's really the nicest feeling in the world, and it's something I worked at making happen. For years I went in there and felt unseen, which was fine for a while. Then I started methodically learning every employee's name, and that expanded to the regular coffee gang. Now I'm part of that crew, and that was NOT the point I started out to make, but that's the magic of writing -- you never exactly know where you'll end up.) 

Back to what I was saying: I try to write before I do anything else, because besides my family, my writing is the most important thing to me. And if I get something done, first thing, then at least no matter what happens later, the day's not a waste. 

You, however, might need to write at night, or in the afternoon, or on your lunch break, hidden away in an unused cubicle. Whenever and wherever works to write is the right place, as long as you're getting it done. If you say, "I'm a night writer. I could never get up a half-hour early to write--I'm just not awake enough at that time of day," that's great if you know that.

Protip:  But if you're not writing at night even though you tell yourself you will, then night ISN'T actually your ideal time, and you should stop telling yourself that. Try a different time. Sneak up on yourself. Turn off the internet before you talk yourself into checking Twitter one more time (it's not easy). For me, it helps to land at the page when I'm still a little sleepy. I feel fewer mental barriers then. Also, I usually need to get out of the house and block the internet before I write. I eventually get bored sitting in front of the computer with nothing to do, so I write. It's not a great system, but it works for me. 

Just write. For every half hour you let yourself read about writing or surf publishing industry blogs, make yourself write (badly!) for fifteen minutes.

You don't have to be published to call yourself a writer. You do have to write.

As John Scalzi so succinctly said, 

So: Do you want to write or don’t you? If your answer is “yes, but,” then here’s a small editing tip: what you’re doing is using six letters and two words to say “no.” And that’s fine. Just don’t kid yourself as to what “yes, but” means.

2. Find your circle of writer friends.

Just like at my cafe, my circle of writer friends is something I worked at. It isn't some random group I happened to trip over in the new fiction section of Books, Inc. I had to think about it. That first time I went to a local RWA meeting was one of the smartest moves I've ever made.  But do you know how hard that was to do? I'm sometimes terribly shy, most of all when something really matters. I was sick to my stomach walking up those stairs at Pyramid Brewery that first Saturday morning. But from that meeting, I met some of my core friends, my staunchest supporters, the people I can turn to for just about anything. 

Last night, I emailed Sophie Littlefield my notes on her newest work-in-progress (which is AMAZING, by the way--I can't wait to be able to tell you it's available). Today I emailed my beloved Cari Luna about my most recent work-in-progress. I needed a little a lot of hand-holding. She sent back, as she always does, the words that made all my hair lie down flat again. 

Over the years, I've cultivated friends who are in ALL stages of the publishing/writing process. I'm dedicating my March release, Pack Up the Moon, to my favorite high school English teacher and to my favorite college English professor, both of whom are still my friends. I've kept writing friends from my writing circle in undergrad, back in the 90s, when we used papyrus to write and smoke signals to Tweet. 

I know who to email when I need someone to gently but firmly nag me to keep going (again, Sophie) and I know who to email when it's bad enough I need her to meet me at the local bar for a quick drink (Juliet Blackwell). I know when a writer friend needs a phone call and not an email (the acceptance! The first bad review!). I know when to drop (literally) everything and get in the car with a bottle of champagne to toast the news that a friend (Juliet) has hit the NYT bestseller list. 

Julie, Gigi Pandian, and Sophie at Bouchercon

I couldn't write without my people. Okay, that's not quite totally true. I could write for a while. I'm just not sure I could keep writing. 

Our voices are small. The audience is large. We need backup. Choose that backup wisely. If you end up with a crit group that makes you feel worse every time you meet, ditch them. (And if they make you feel like the best writer in the universe every single time you hook up? You might want to think about ditching them, too.) A true writing friend both believes in you heart-and-soul and isn't afraid to bring up the parts of your book that suck. Know why? Because they truly believe you can fix it. 

And you can. 

* The winner for Vanessa Kier's giveaway is Mary from TN! Thanks for commenting! 

41

We went out of town for my birthday.

We stayed at the Albion River Inn, which is much too fancy for people like us. I first went there years ago, with a girlfriend who had more expensive taste than I did, and I never forgot it. Lala and I went there for our first wedding anniversary (six years ago!). This year, I used my birthday as an excuse. 

I can't remember a more relaxing trip, ever. 

We did nothing. Yesterday, true, we made the grueling five mile drive to Mendocino to see the craft fair (shades of hemp soap and spoon windchimes) and to eat fudge while sitting in front of the excellent Gallery Bookshop. I found yarn (Lala found it, actually -- the Mendocino Yarn Shop has moved, and is still worth seeking out). That was the extent of our out-of-hotel adventures. 

Beyond that? We moved from table to tub and back again. Y'see, in some of the rooms at this inn, the spa-tub is IN THE WINDOW (in front of private land where no one but you will walk) and you can lie in the tub and watch the ocean. (Room 17 is stunning.) 

View from tub. 

I read a lot. (While in the tub, mostly.)

Lala drew. 

I knitted a little.

But mostly, I sat in the tub. I sat in the tub in the morning. I sat in the tub at midnight. I sat in the tub before dinner and got our breakfast coffee in to-go cups so I could get back in the water. Yesterday afternoon, I stayed in the tub for three hours, after which I stumbled to the bed for an afternoon nap (which I don't actually remember doing. I wasn't drinking -- it just felt like I was). Last night, we lit the fire and got in the tub. We got out to do grown-up things (taxes, of course) and then while Lala slept, I got back in and listened to the waves break in the dark. 

Today, we left the hotel, sorrow in our hearts. We made it up to ourselves by wine-tasting in the Anderson Valley as we drove through it. Now, you have to know that Lala and I both enjoy four-dollar wine. Livin' high for us is wine on sale at Safeway (true! You can get a fourteen-dollar bottle of wine on sale there for seven!). We don't know what's good or what's bad, and we don't know how to taste. And neither of us have ever been financially able to go to a winery and put our noses in the air and say, "Whyyy, yes, darling, this DOES hint of palest sorrowful rose and alabaster mint grown on the steppes of inner-east temperate Yugoslavia." 

But today, we went to a few wineries on the way home, because buying a bottle or two won't break the bank (luckily). We were honest at Husch Winery, and we told Susan, "We have NO idea what we're doing." We found a few bottles we liked and brought them home, and this is a conversation we just had (word for word), a few minutes ago on the porch while our salmon cooked on the grill and while we sipped our incredible bottle of Breggo Chardonnay Reserve. 

Lala: The nose of this is...

Rachael: Nosey! 

[Falling over laughing.]

A moment later, while tasting it Very Seriously: 

Rachael: This tastes like...

Lala: Things we can't afford to eat! 

Takeaway: We are not adult enough to drink wine. 

Speaking of adults, this is how Clementine looked when we left: 

And today:

Things are good at Chez Hehu. I like 41 WAY better than 40. 

And apropos of nothing but I think this is lovely and I adore Dustin Hoffman more than I ever did before (which was a lot)--please watch this about how he found out he'd been brainwashed (it's worth your time):

Summer Favorites

Apologies to those of you who follow me on Twitter and have heard me rhapse waxodic on these candles, but I lurve them sooo much. 

Y'see, the last time I lit a real candle in our house, Digit ran past it, lit his tail on fire, and headed for the living room curtains. I put out his tail-flame with my bare hands and then breathed into a paper bag for a while. I gave up on candles. Not worth it. But I love the way candles look -- the glow the give, the home-ness of them. I missed them. 

Then one night at work, we got a call from a citizen who saw a candle burning in a closed tchotchke shop. We sent out a fire engine. The shop was closed and locked, and there was, indeed, a candle burning inside on a table. 

We set about trying to find the responsible contact for the premise, going through PD and the alarm company -- all the normal venues. In the meantime, the fire crew had been on scene about a half-hour. And one of the guys started thinking, Maybe it's not a real candle. No, the others said. It flickers! Look, it's wavering. It's real. They stared. They studied. They weren't more than eight feet away through glass, and they could not tell. 

Finally, we got hold of the owner who verified that no, they didn't light real candles in the store, but that it was a special battery-operated candle that utilized the technology Disney used in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride.

We had a good laugh. The crew cleared. And I started Googling, because if candles were good enough to fool firefighters, then they'd be good enough for me. 

I found them! I bought them! Even though they were exceedingly expensive! And I'm blogging this now because I just found them for hella cheap on Amazon, less than half-price, and if you want to try them, this would be the time. They look a little frumpy in their Amazon photos, so I took a little video of them in the house. (Some come with a remote -- one remote will control them all, in case you're curious.) 

 

I don't actually ever use the remote -- you can put them on a timer, and they'll "burn" for 5 hours every night before flicking off. So now when we come home at night? They're on! They run on D batteries, and we use rechargeables, so we're golden. This will absolutely be our go-to wedding/housewarming present from here on out. They look so real. 

Sorry! That was such a hard sell! But they make me happy, daily. 

Your reward? A summer plum salad recipe, adapted from that amazing 101 Simple Salads list the New York Times compiled four years ago. 

Brine two chicken breasts for an hour-ish or more (place in a large ziplock bag, add about 4tbs salt and some peppercorns). Grill them (the chicken breasts, not the plastic bag). Slice 4-6 plums (in season now!). (I honestly didn't even know how to do this cleanly, but god bless the Internet -- I learned how here.) Place sliced plums in large bowl, add balsamic vinegar, enough to coat and then some more. While that sits, chop some celery, toss some salted roasted almonds in food processor, chop some oregano (he says marjoram also works, but I found that too perfumy), chop a little red onion, and throw all that in the bowl. Add olive oil and salt on top, mix it up. Chop the cooked chicken, add. Serve on top of favorite greens. AMAZING. You're welcome. 

Also? Happy Pride, y'all. So happy with the Prop 8/DOMA decisions. (We went and danced in the Oakland streets that night. It was wonderful.) 

Reading Recs With Bonus Giveaway!

Oh, darlins, I've been reading SO much lately. I've been on a reading bender, overdosing on books. 

There is no shortage of good days. It is good lives that are hard to come by...Who would call a day spent reading a good day? But a life spent reading--that is a good life. -- Annie Dillard, The Writing Life. 

I picked up that book in 2007. I know because my Kindle told me not to buy it again last week (thanks!). I vaguely remembered starting it, and not connecting with her language, with her level of intensity. Dillard takes her job as writer very seriously, and that scared me. This time through? I'm highlighting sentences on every page. I love this book. I finished it earlier this week, hit the home button, and started it again from the beginning. I'm not sure I've ever done that before. 

Code Name Verity, Elizabeth Wein. Recommended by just about everyone around me, this book gripped me from the very start. Female pilots in World War Two! The Gestapo! Spies! Don't read any of the blurbs -- just jump in and read, blind, like I did. I have never cried so much while reading a book, maybe ever. (That is not a spoiler. When I heard that before I started reading it, I thought Dang, I didn't want to know that! But trust me, it's not really a spoiler.) I couldn't put this down -- one of those books you can't wait to get back to. 

Speaking of books you can't wait to get back to, I'd love to introduce you to Vanessa Kier! She's an exciting writer I was lucky enough to beta-read for, and she writes romantic thrillers. Who doesn't love a thriller? Vanessa writes what I like -- spicy hot alpha males and women who are even stronger. She gave me an interview, and she'll be giving away a copy of Vengeance - The Surgical Strike Unit Trilogy Book 1 in hard copy or e-version to a lucky commenter! 

Hi, Vanessa! First of all, I love where he's carrying that gun. Next, What comes first for you, characters or plot? How do you marry the two?

Character usually comes first for me. For example, with Vengeance the first thing I knew about the story was that it revolved around an emotionally wounded heroine, Jenna. I knew that she’d survived a horrific attack that killed her parents and her younger siblings, and that trauma and survivor’s guilt pushed her in a direction no one who knew her up to that point would have expected. After that, I had to actually get into the writing before I even discovered who the hero was. Mark Tonelli was the original hero, until he met Jenna and was such a jerk I realized he was a secondary villain. Niko appeared to me shortly after that.

Betrayal worked slightly differently, because the plot and many of the characters flowed from Vengeance. So I already knew the hero, some of the villains and that the heroine was the daughter of the villainous Dr. Nevsky. From the moment I started thinking about Betrayal I knew that the heroine was going to be either an archaeologist or anthropologist. Susana Dias appeared very shortly after that and was a blast to write!

The plot usually flows from the characters. I often know a few key plot points and maybe the ending, but for the most part, when writing the rough draft I let the characters dictate the action.

 

What draws you to fast-paced suspense?

The simple answer is probably that I’m just hard-wired that way. I get bored if I'm not writing mayhem! :D After I finished my first full-length manuscript, a romantic suspense that took me five years to write, I was so burned out I thought I’d try to write a light contemporary romance about a woman who meets a man while on vacation. But before long there are dead bodies, her Army brother goes missing in action over seas, and the heroine becomes involved in an investigation that uncovers corruption in the army command. Then Jenna’s story popped into my head and completely overrode the other plot. Who knows, maybe someday I’ll go back and write that as a suspense, not a contemporary romance!

The more complex answer is twofold. First, I’m fascinated by the idea that if you put a character in a life or death situation, you’ll quickly see their true essence. 

Second, I’m a worrier. I think that it's cathartic for me to write down some of the worst situations I can think of, then maneuver the plot to result in a happy ending. In my books I can make sure the good guys win, which is very satisfying emotionally and something that doesn’t always happen in real life. 

 

What's your favorite part of the writing process?

The organic process of putting emotion and action on the page is my favorite part. I like sitting down to a blank page and not knowing what's going to come out as my fingers fly over the keyboard. I also love discovering new details while interviewing one of my characters. 

 

What's your least favorite?

Trying to organize all the messy scenes into a coherent whole! I’ve learned that I’m no good at following an outline. I outlined Vengeance, but as I wrote, the characters deviated so far from my outline there was no going back! After the rough draft is done I really drill down and make sure that the characters’ motivations and goals are clear and that the actions they take are logical. Sometimes I end up having to completely alter the plot because of this, which ends up in a lot of work. However, my muse is happier if there's not too much structure when I'm writing the first draft.

Also, keeping the timeline straight for the SSU trilogy was horrible, particularly since Retribution (Book 3) starts chronologically before Betrayal (Book 2). It took several iterations of tracking events on an erasable wall calendar with multiple colors of markers to make sure that the characters weren’t in two places at the same time! 

 

What's on your plate now?

I’m revising the first book in a new romantic thriller series. The series takes place in Africa and I’m drawing on my time spent living there to add authentic details. The first book is about Jane Gardiner, an international aid worker nicknamed Calamity Jane, because no matter where she goes natural disaster, disease or strife seems to strike. If this was a paranormal, she’d behaunted by the Four Horsemen! The hero isRio Martinez, an ex-Marine. Rio is Jane's former lover and the man she was forced to betray several years earlier, ending up in his imprisonment and torture. Rio has become part of a secret African organization that is part special operations, part Robin Hood’s Merry Men, with a goal of preventing violent rebel groups from throwing the region into chaos. Jane and Rio are forced to work together to locate a disk that contains data that can prevent a series of attacks against foreign embassies. There arerebels and traitors and some pretty gritty action scenes. You know, the usual fun and games! 

Thanks so much for having me here!

 

 One lucky commenter will win a copy of  Vengeance! Say whatever you'd like in your comment, but as always, it's fun if you share the latest great book you read with everyone else. - R

Now

I just got my third tattoo. Actually, it's my fourth, but one was covered up. This one is on the inside of my arm, just below my elbow. 

It's based on this drawing I made: 

When I was a kid, I used to draw words like this. I'd write my name in cursive and then mirror it (folding, rubbing with pencil, and redrawing) and marvel that my name was unrecognizable and so beautiful, disguised that way. 

The word NOW is gorgeous in the same way. 

See it now? 

Backwards, and shiny because under saran wrap still but you get the idea.

It's kind of my own secret, since I hid it on the underside of my arm, so if my arm is against my side, you can't see it even in short sleeves. But when I write, I can glance down and read the word, in my own handwriting, in purple (like the best kind of fountain pen ink).

Now

I've been thinking a lot about that word, trying to keep it in my mind. I don't live in yesterday (though I always think it would be nice to--I have a lot of great memories in the old mental Rolodex that don't get flipped through as often as I'd like to) but I have a real problem with that whole What's happening next thing. I can be truly, deeply, and spiritually loving the bacon and eggs that Lala's fixed me in the morning and be wondering at the same time what would be good for lunch. Or worse, dinner. Instead of sitting there, enjoying the bacony goodness. 

Now is now. 

It's the silliest, most simple thing, but it's HUGE. It's all, perhaps. Where you are sitting (because I bet you're seated) right now is the only moment you're sure of. Are you comfortable? Do you, like me, have the remains of a perfect peach to your left? Is it too hot where you are? Too cold? How does your body feel? Are you listening to music? Maybe you're stealing time away from work to cruise blogs (good for you). Are you hungry? Maybe, just for a minute, look around and be amazed that you are where you are. Right now.

Me: I have the desk fan pointed on me because I'm hot (as usual). Outside, the sprinkler is going because I finally remembered to turn it on (our grass is browning). There's a kid playing in it, washing off a tennis ball. He's sweet, about five, maybe. I don't know his name, but we're pals. From the kitchen on the other side of the house, I can hear The Lone Bellow, the album I put on to make dinner to. A dog is snoring in the living room. 

Now is now. Now is pretty fucking awesome. 

I think it's hitting me more today because I just got the tattoo, but it's been joyously lovely to keep in mind. After I went to the grocery store, I was driving home in heavy, slow traffic on 580. A 50s pickup truck was broken down in the left hand shoulder. Half a mile ahead, a man walked right next to the fast lane (which I was in). The top of the SmartCar and the windows were down, so as I passed him, I said, "Want a ride?" 

You should have seen his face. When he woke up that morning, he hadn't planned on riding in SmartCar, I could tell. But how on earth was he going to cross five lanes of heavy traffic without getting smooshed like a bug? He said he'd been wondering that himself. And as I made my way to the right lane, to the exit that would take us to a gas station where I could drop him off, as we chatted about the truck (that he had just bought, poor guy), we were both kind of astounded as to where we suddenly found ourselves, I think. I'd been alone in my car a few seconds before, with no intention of picking up a stranger. He'd been trudging down the road, stuck on the wrong side of a river of traffic. 

Suddenly we were both in the car, music playing, laughing. It was a lovely, lovely moment that didn't even last three minutes. When I got back on the freeway, I entered right behind the car I'd been behind originally (that's how bad traffic was). And I hadn't helped the guy out in any substantial way -- he still had to deal with a broken-down truck on the freeway. But I'd helped for a few seconds, and we'd had fun. 

And now? Now I'm going to brine some chicken and then go sit on the porch with a glass of wine and my book. It's a gorgeous night. I hope you're enjoying the now, my ducks. Love. 

Clara approves. 

Summer Cometh

Lala and I went kayaking last week for her birthday. I'd forgotten how much fun it is, just paddling a boat. (It always makes me think of Ratty in the Wind in the Willows, "there is nothing--absolutely nothing--half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.") 

 

I've kayaked quite a bit, always in the ride-on-top or recreational sit-in kayaks, never the strap-yourself-in scary kind. And wherever I've ended up has been as much due to luck as it was to paddling skills. It's a natural movement, after all. Give a kid a paddle, and he'll paddle with it. That was me. 

But we took a class, because Lala wanted to. And what do you know? There is SO MUCH to know about kayaking! I learned what my body was supposed to do (if you're doing it "right," you're using your feet and your core as much as your arms). I learned how to turn in place (turning of any sort had always been a mystery to me) and how to paddle backwards.

 

The class took us through the estuary at Jack London to Alameda, where we boated around the marinas, and then wound up at the Grand Street marina for lunch, and then we paddled back. 

It made me think about the summer fast approaching. I realized that not only is it almost here, it's almost too late to start planning. Gah. I went through our calendar and we really only have one free weekend available for a camping trip, and when I went online to reserve something, it was all booked. Of course it is. I've been saying for months I should get on it, but didn't. 

So are there places you can go camp that aren't campgrounds? That's a weird question. But you know what I mean. Anyone used AirB&B? (I just looked at their site and couldn't find camping-friendly things, just rooms in houses. Maybe I'm using it wrong.) 

What other ideas do you have for summer close-to-home? I'm thinking a campout in the backyard might actually be fun. Campgrounds have quiet hours, and they make you stop playing music by 10pm. Our backyard? We have cool neighbors on one side and none at all on the other, so we could play all night! 

I'd love to hear what you do in the summer for unconventional fun. (Or any kind of fun, really.) 

Do the Math

I'm on deadline, and I've just hit the point in revising the book at which I finally believe it will probably be good. Up till this point, it's been the WORST book ever written, but since this is my seventh book, I know that I feel that way every single time. 

When I reach the point at which I love the book, right when I fall in love with it, I send it away to my editor. She, in turn, will find areas I can make better, and I'll hate the book briefly and viciously again. Then I'll revise again, and it will be the BEST book ever written. 

What's nice to realize is that neither of these things are true. They're just feelings. I haven't ever written the worst, or the best, book in the world. Nor will I ever do so (thank god). 

All that matters is doing the math. Isn't that funny? That writing comes down to numbers? But it does, for me. 

My books are about 90,000 words long. I write first drafts more slowly than I revise. I can reliably write 2-3k words of new stuff in a day before my brain fizzles. I can reliably revise 6-8k words in a day. 

I look at my calendar and I map it all out. Every day that I'm not at the day-job gets a word count goal (thanks, Google Calendar!). If I have thirty days available to write a first draft, then I need to write 3,000 words each day. I keep a chart for every book, so I can tell you exactly how long it took to write any given book. Somehow, it's comforting to me to look at the numbers. 

Click to biggify

You can see that I'm doing this revision quickly, much more quickly than it took me to write the first draft. (And yes, you can tell by the above math that I didn't write the ending the first time through. I never know how my books end until I've written them at least twice. It's not ideal, but it's the way I work.) 

This method works, by the way, for writers not on deadline. How long do YOU want it to take to write a book? Do your math. Say you can manage to write a page a day (only 250 words! You can do that in fifteen minutes!) on your work days and you can up that amount to 1000 words/day on your weekends. That's 90,000 / (5 x 250) + (2 x 1000) = 28 weeks, or about seven months. That's seven months to a first draft while working full time. Not too shabby, my friend. (Seriously, I love doing math like this. It's like doing our budget, which I also love doing, now that I use YNAB*.) 

And if you're an average-paced writer, you can pull this off while only writing 3.25 hours/week (1000wds/hour). That's nothing! Everyone can find that in their week (unless you're the mother of newborn twins, in which case, good lord, you just get a hug from me along with my eternal respect. We'll see you in eighteen years).

And what do you with all that time you're not writing or fretting about not writing? That's when you're planning! Sitting down to write words every day only works when you know where you're going (I say that lightly but plotting is the hardest thing, to me). Do THAT instead of doodling in meetings. Plan the next scene while you're in the shower. Then plan the next one. Make notes on your phone or on your hand. If you're bored thinking about a scene, nix it. Don't write it. Only write the exciting parts, the parts you love. I recently found myself--literally--writing a city council meeting. I bored myself. When I woke up from my little chair-nap, I made someone take off all his clothes at the meeting (Elbert Romo, if you remember him from earlier Cypress Hollow novels). Do what you have to do.

And remember the most comforting thing of all: Your voice is your voice is your voice. The words that came so painfully last Tuesday will just read like all the others when you look at them next month. The book you hate today will be the one you love later.

Do some more math. 

Then write some more words. 

* $6 off coupon HERE for YNAB, which stands for You Need a Budget, and it's the best thing we've done this year. We're actually saving money now, and we know what the money is for. PLANNING AHEAD. Who knew we could do this? Highly recommended, and I think they have a 30 day free trial. I've actually learned where our money goes, which was something I literally had no clue about until this year. Perhaps I'm growing up. PROBABLY NOT THOUGH.

** I got some mail! Real mail! Seriously, so exciting. I'm going to try to write back to each one. And yes, this trick (see previous post) got me to the post office. 

*** We also prettified the porch. I'm in love with being out there. Yay spring!