Laura Roberts's Blog, page 97

The NOIR Issue now online

UPDATE: Giveaway! The first 25 people to comment on this post will receive a FREE copy of The NOIR Issue. Bonus points for those who will also review the book on their personal blog (though this is not a requirement to win). Ready? Set? GO!
--

My literary magazine, Black Heart, has just published a new anthology of crime fiction called The NOIR Issue. It's packed full of excellent short fiction, poetry, and artwork from some top-shelf contributors.



Find out more/buy a copy at this link: http://blackheartmagazine.com/2011/07...

Now available on Smashwords in Kindle, EPUB, RTF, LRF and PDB formats: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/...

3 things I never knew about Montreal

Some things I never knew about Montreal, which have recently enlightened my thinking:

Hunter S. Thompson visited my alma mater, Concordia University, way back in 1985. He had this to say about the experience:

As far as the French Separatists are concerned, with any luck at all, Reagan will go belly up when he meets Gorbachev in Geneva this week and Washington will be seized by a cabal of crazed generals in the style of Dr. Strangelove. The colossus to the South will be paralyzed by fear and greed, paving the way for a takeover by truffle-eating wine-sucking anarchists […] I left for the airport immediately, feeling lucky to get out of the country without being flogged.

The quote is from "The Beast With Three Backs," in Generation of Swine: Tales of Shame and Degradation in the '80s, for those interested.

That pretty much sums up Quebec political thinking, for me (minus the flogging, which is more Quebec-style sexual thinking). But then again, Quebeckers did just vote NDP over their usual Bloc Quebecois (by a landslide) in the most recent election last week, so maybe the times they are a-changing?

My former (not-so) arch nemesis, Montreal sex columnist Sasha, recommends Slippery Stuff lube.

Why does this matter? Well, maybe it doesn't, although a friend recently asked if I'd tried the Stuff, and I said I had no experience with it, but having Googled a bit, I discovered that it's been recommended by medical professionals for at least two decades. And it comes in a gel form (as opposed to a liquid) that's "specifically designed to stay where you put it." That's certainly unique, and may end up working its way into my novel. (BTW: you can order the Stuff on Amazon.com if you're curious.)

And, rounding things out with a little gratuitous nudity, here's a photo of French actress Emmanuelle Beart with a Montreal connection, via the always-enlightening Coolopolis.

[image error]

Click the pic to read the story at Coolopolis!

69% complete!

Because the Beavis & Butthead in me can't resist: My novel is 69% complete!

[image error]

Huh-huh-huh. You said "69″!

It's an erotic novel, people. About French people from Montreal, who basically invented soixante-neuf (at least according to Sacha Baron Cohen's French Formula One racer, Jean Girard, in Talladega Nights). If anything calls for a little gutter humor, it's reaching the 69% point.

Got any climaxes of your own to celebrate today?

Anticrastination Scribproductivathon

(Originally posted 3/29/2011 at Buttontapper.com)

My writing collective, We Put Words On Paper, is currently holding a writing marathon/lock-in. It's called the Anticrastination Scribproductivathon, and this is its third incarnation (though my first attendance), subtitled "Scrib Hard With a Vengeance."

We're on hour 6 or so, and had planned to go for at least 8 hours of writing, writing exercises and plotting world domination.

So far, we've done two writing exercises (one that I found went well for me, one that didn't), and written for an hour and a half straight on our various individual products. We're in the middle of our second longer writing session, and we've got some Explosions in the Sky Radio on to keep the fingers typing. I decided to write up this blog, as I'm a bit stuck as to where to take my scene next, having actually ended the first block of our writing time on a cliffhanger in my novel.

What next?

I guess what's bugging me right now about the scene is that I've set up my character to be in some type of danger. And I know that, realistically, the piece must take her to and through this danger. She must be up against this particular conflict. She will survive, but she will not be on top in this scene. It's hard for me to do that to this character, because I like her and want her story to be funny and upbeat and something people can identify with—it's not being downtrodden or a bummer. And this scene? This scene IS a bummer. It's going to be a bummer to write, and probably a bummer to read. But it's going to move the plot forward.

[image error]

"Kill your darlings" (image by Flickr user Erwin Fisser)

I have a problem with having bad things happen to good people. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's my version of poetic justice, trying to protect the "good ones" from harm. But I know that conflict is often made up of the bad things that happen to good people, and the resulting story is what those people do to adapt, to cope, to make it through, to understand, to survive and to thrive.

I think it's because I want the story to be amusing or comedic overall that I'm having a tough time writing the tragic scenes. They are certainly necessary; I'm not going to torture this character for no reason, after all. But I prefer to write the funny scenes, for sure.

Strange, coming from someone who used to write plenty of stories that wallowed in misery. I guess I need to channel that old way of thinking, at least for a few moments, to get through this scene.

How do you deal with the need to murder (or at least maim) your darlings?

Celebrating the halfway point

You've got to celebrate the milestones, and since I've just crossed the halfway point in my first draft (actually, my word counter says I'm 51% done, w00t!), I feel like shouting it from the rooftops.

Instead, you have this blog post.

[image error]

MY NOVEL'S HALFWAY DONE!!!!!!!!!!

Tell the world. I'll be on the couch, banging out another 510 words today, so as to keep rolling towards completion.

Wish me luck!

What I've been doing (besides writing my novel)

It's been a while since I posted (as a Kindle subscriber recently pointed out), and it's high time for an update!

The bad news is: I haven't been writing on a daily basis, as I should be.

[image error]

(And no, it's not because of this... although I've always wanted a hollow book for hiding things.)

The good news is: It's because I've started a new job!

I don't want to say too much about the new job, for the moment, but suffice to say that it's a nice change of pace. Also, I may start blogging for them eventually, so if I do, I will undoubtedly link the heck out of it.

In the meantime, I'm working on a variety of projects (as usual), and my writing group just held an awesome little SouthBy shindig we called the SXSCongress Word Party, which went really well, so hopefully we'll be holding more of them soon!

I'm also trying out the idea of digital issues over at Black Heart, so I invite my readers who are also writers to submit to our NOIR Issue. I'm going to put up a list of upcoming themes for these quarterly issues shortly, so if there's a subject you're keen to see in the magazine, by all means let me know!

I've got a few other ideas simmering at the moment, and when I get them all worked out, you'll be the first to hear about 'em.

And now, back to writing my novel!

The angry writer

This may sound a bit silly, but lately I find myself feeling angry whenever I can't work on my novel. Whether it's because I have to do "real" work instead of the necessary and important work of writing my novel, or because I am running errands and I'm physically away from the computer, I start to feel incredibly resentful of the various obstacles keeping me from my writing.

[image error]

The last time I felt this way I was living in New York City, working a shitty minimum-wage job with 2 hours of unpaid overtime every day (for which I was never compensated), an hour-long commute each way, and not a single friend in my area code. I read a lot of books from the library, grabbed lunches I could eat while walking, and trekked from work to Central Park during every lunch break I had (weather permitting). I walked quickly, determined to hit the park and at least one museum (the Guggenheim or the Met) before heading back to my post.

I was almost always angry, and walking swiftly down the orderly, gridded streets of the Upper East Side was the only thing that ever seemed to help me feel any better.

Why so much anger? I used to respond, "If you're not angry, then you're just stupid or you don't care," quoting Ani DiFranco. Now I think it was actually a much more selfish anger: I was frustrated by my inability to work on the projects I cared about.

I was not often able to write while I was at work (as the receptionist at a busy firm, the phone was constantly ringing, and when I got stuck taking messages for the most boorish of the partners, it was even worse), and after 10 hours on the job (plus 2 hours of commuting time), I was often too exhausted to write when I got home. It seemed my life was little more than waking up very early, chasing down buses, riding subway trains, answering phones for ungrateful bastards, eating unsatisfying breakfasts, lunches and dinners, going to bed as early as possible to try to catch up on my ever-increasing sleep deficit, and waking up tired—only to do it all over again. A horribly meaningless existence, really, brightened only by the books I was reading, the music playing in my headphones, the emails I received from my then-boyfriend, and whatever time I could eke out for my writing.

I did my best to devote my weekends exclusively to my writing, relishing the two free days I had from my miserable routine, but sometimes I could not make the words come. Sometimes, all I could do was go for a walk, listening to some angry or depressing music (Ani DiFranco, Tool, Garbage), and self-loathe.

[image error]

I am, still, that angry writer. When I don't have time to play with words, for whatever reason, I start to get very bent out of shape very quickly. God help the fool who gets in my way!

Obviously, writing is one of my daily requirements, a part of my life like taking vitamins, drinking coffee or checking my email. When I cannot get my writing time in, I feel unsettled. I don't feel entirely whole, entirely there. And when I can't get back to my novel, an enormous task that people are constantly asking after, I feel even worse. I feel almost as if I am a failure at life, that nothing I ever do will amount to anything.

And that makes me incredibly angry.

So, if you've ever wondered what fuels a writer, know this: it's not happy thoughts, and it's not the desire to succeed. It's anger, stemming from an enormous fear of failure. Sometimes it's even blinding rage. And the best thing you can do to support an angry writer?

KEEP OUT OF THE WAY AND BRING REFILLS ON ALL BEVERAGES. (Please and thank you.)

How to write a novel

There's a great post over at Men With Pens today on the subject of writing a novel, entitled "How to Dig Up the Bones of Your Unwritten Novel." It's by Graham Strong, who blogs on a daily (!) basis at A Few Strong Words (get it?) about how his novel is progressing. He's currently on his second draft, so I'm definitely going to have to tune in and see if he's got helpful hints for me as I finish up my first draft, hopefully by the time Spring hits.

As far as my own novel goes, Naked Montreal has definitely become fun again, thanks to some suggestions from a new writing group I've joined (pending their two-meeting approval!), something that was lacking when I was trying to force myself to write too many words per day and really slog through it like some NaNoWriMo-esque word-count challenge.

As Graham mentions, while you should commit to writing every day, you shouldn't force yourself to write too much every day. He says he wrote only an hour each day on his first draft, which kept him interested in what he was writing and prevented burn-out. You wouldn't think a writer could burn out on something that's supposed to be fun, but I think he's right; if you view the process too much like work, you'll lose your muse. So keep writing, but don't overwrite and turn your wild and crazy first draft into something angina-inducing.

Oh, and speaking of inducing angina, my writer friend AV Flox has always used the phrase to describe things that drive her a bit crazy. I always assumed she'd write a book one day called "The Angina Monologues." So imagine my surprise when I saw this:

[image error]

Needless to say, she wasn't pleased when I told her of my discovery. Damn you, South Africa, for stealing AV's thunder!

Oh, and did you notice this author has another book called "The Karma Suture"? MEMO: The original is called the Kama Sutra and not the Karma Sutra. Playing on "sutra" vs. "suture" as an MD joke works, but mistaking "Kama" for "Karma" just makes you (and your editors, and publisher) look uneducated—and on a very easily Googled title.

So kids, if you want to write a novel, remember 3 things:

Write every day.
Don't OVERWRITE your first draft.
Clever titles can backfire, so pick one that makes you look subtly brilliant instead. Something like, say, Naked Montreal .

Follow these 3 simple steps and you'll be on the road to success in no time!

Jour de la marmotte, AKA Funny French-Canadianisms

When I was living in Montreal, all of my daily planners were bilingual. This is how I came to discover that "Groundhog Day" was known in French-Canada as "Jour de la marmotte."

This is pretty hilarious in and of itself, but if you're a fan of The Big Lebowski, you are probably already thinking about aquatic mammals and freaking marmots, which are actually ferrets owned by a bunch of German nihilists, and wondering Are these guys Nazis?

No, Donny, these men are nihilists. Nothing to be afraid of.

[image error]

<> dit Punxsutawney Phil

Anyway, the marmotte to end all marmottes, Punxsutawney Phil, apparently did NOT see his shadow today, indicating that warmer temps are coming soon. Which is good news, because while I have been missing Montreal, I have definitely NOT been missing its scary, snowy winters and -40 (and colder) temps! This week in Austin going from a balmy 70 to a frigid 20 (F) has been quite enough, thanks, and I am really hoping that rumors of snow for tomorrow turn out to be just that.

Seriously, Phil, could you do something about this crazy cold snap? Thanks, buddy.

Naked Montreal: The Cocktail

I shall now teach you how to make a Naked Montreal—a drink I have just invented because every great book needs its own cocktail. Particularly when the launch parties begin!

Round up the following ingredients:

Frozen Canadian vodka (preferably Polar Ice or Iceberg, although Dan Akroyd's pricey Crystal Head is also permissable)
Cranberry juice
Cointreau or Triple Sec
Limes

What's that you say? This is sounding like a Cosmopolitan? That's because it is… with a twist. Follow these instructions to make the drink properly:

Combine 2 ounces of vodka with 1 ounce of cranberry juice and half an ounce of Cointreau/Triple Sec and a squeeze of lime in a shaker with ice.
Shake vigorously, while making extremely sexual eye-contact with your targeted lover for the evening. Be sure to undress them and fuck them fast and furious with your naked eyeballs as you shake the drink. Let them know they are in for something both sordid and sweet, after which they will be forever changed.
Pour the ingredients slowly and longingly into a "swinger" martini glass, comme ça:

[image error] … and sip your Naked Montreal just slowly enough to intrigue the object of your affections, who will now want one of his or her own.
Make a second cocktail for your lover, allow him or her to consume the drink as you continue your eye-fucking; then, head back to your place (or the nearest alley) for a deliciously dirty shag.

NOTE: If your intended partner for the evening does not return your advances, do not ruin the moment by asking for his or her phone number or making your already obvious intentions "more clear" by asking if they'd like to shag. This would be, as we say in Franglais, totalment inappropriate.