L.M. Pruitt's Blog, page 27
June 14, 2011
Inertia
I'm at a standstill. Not just with writing, but with a number of things. That's not to say that I don't have plenty of ideas--because I do. I just don't seem to have the energy or drive or whatnot to carry them out.
I think everybody has an idea of how their life is supposed to go. I can tell you, I had no plans to still be waiting tables three years after graduating from college. I planned to either be teaching or working in law enforcement or something where I could help and reach people. I planned on living in New Orleans, and having friends over each year for Mardi Gras and in general living a much more sophisticated, urban life.
None of those things have happened.
Most of the time I'm ok with that. I wouldn't have met some of the people I have, or had some of the opportunities I did if those original plans had come to pass. But there are times, like now, when that strange depression that tends to hit artists of of kinds just whammies me, and any kind of production slows to a standstill. It usually hits about once a book, so even though I can see the rest of the book laid out in front of me, I just can't seem to get it on paper.
Soon, something will happen to kick me in the ass. Something always does. But for now, I'll ask for your patience and understanding. After all, good things come to those who wait--in this case, the next Jude Magdalyn novel.
I think everybody has an idea of how their life is supposed to go. I can tell you, I had no plans to still be waiting tables three years after graduating from college. I planned to either be teaching or working in law enforcement or something where I could help and reach people. I planned on living in New Orleans, and having friends over each year for Mardi Gras and in general living a much more sophisticated, urban life.
None of those things have happened.
Most of the time I'm ok with that. I wouldn't have met some of the people I have, or had some of the opportunities I did if those original plans had come to pass. But there are times, like now, when that strange depression that tends to hit artists of of kinds just whammies me, and any kind of production slows to a standstill. It usually hits about once a book, so even though I can see the rest of the book laid out in front of me, I just can't seem to get it on paper.
Soon, something will happen to kick me in the ass. Something always does. But for now, I'll ask for your patience and understanding. After all, good things come to those who wait--in this case, the next Jude Magdalyn novel.
May 2, 2011
Decisions, Decisions
Just a quick check in, as I was looking things over and I find I've been horribly lax in blogging. Again, I think it's because I talk so much in my daily life and then I write on top of it that I just don't have any words left over for blogging. But I digress. As usual.
I find myself torn between two projects. One, which I'm actually already working on and I'm about 20% finished with, is the next Jude Magdalyn book. If all goes well, it should be ready for release in August--so cross your fingers. This book is very dark and emotional and full of thorny issues. So while it's nice to continue with the story and see where everyone is going, it can also be a little depressing.
The other project is huge. As in 6 parts, each part roughly 85,000 words. Background research on weaponry, over a dozen cities, battle strategy, etc. Not to mention writing in a whole different vein. I think we can agree my writing is pretty flippant and flamboyant and other such words. But the story I'm planning to tell is a great deal more somber, and as such requires a more serious voice. It kind of hurts. But it kind of rocks.
So I find myself, when I sit down to write, going---"Which one do I want to work on today?" I'd like to say I work on both, but I already work like 9 hours a day and have to deal with people. I don't have the stamina for two chapters a day in two different styles. So right now I'm alternating, but I feel like someone is getting the short end of the stick. Sooner or later someone is going to win all my concentration.
Decisions, decisions.
I find myself torn between two projects. One, which I'm actually already working on and I'm about 20% finished with, is the next Jude Magdalyn book. If all goes well, it should be ready for release in August--so cross your fingers. This book is very dark and emotional and full of thorny issues. So while it's nice to continue with the story and see where everyone is going, it can also be a little depressing.
The other project is huge. As in 6 parts, each part roughly 85,000 words. Background research on weaponry, over a dozen cities, battle strategy, etc. Not to mention writing in a whole different vein. I think we can agree my writing is pretty flippant and flamboyant and other such words. But the story I'm planning to tell is a great deal more somber, and as such requires a more serious voice. It kind of hurts. But it kind of rocks.
So I find myself, when I sit down to write, going---"Which one do I want to work on today?" I'd like to say I work on both, but I already work like 9 hours a day and have to deal with people. I don't have the stamina for two chapters a day in two different styles. So right now I'm alternating, but I feel like someone is getting the short end of the stick. Sooner or later someone is going to win all my concentration.
Decisions, decisions.
April 11, 2011
Ten Things You Don't Know About Me
I'd like to apologize for the delay in this post. I'd like to, but I'm so happy to have a working, virus-free computer that I can't do anything but jump up and down and be happy. The virusy computer isn't the only reason for the long delay in posting, but it's a major one.
The idea for this post came from a fellow writer (C.J. Ellison--check her out!) who in turn got it from another writer. The original post was 20 Things, but that's way too much info. A girl has to have some mystery, right?
TEN THINGS YOU DON'T/DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT ME
1. I've lived in the same town my entire life. With the exception of a grand total of six months spent in various cities, I've spent all 20-odd years of my life in Tallahassee.
2. The first place I went was church. Three days old, and I'm in church. I'd like to say I still have that level of commitment, but I have bills to pay. And I think God understands.
3. My alarm clock is old enough to vote. I've had the same clock for close to 18 years. That's longer than some marriages. Speaking of alarm clocks...
4. I can sleep through almost anything. Seriously. Tornadoes, torrential rainpour, rock concerts. And I can sleep almost anywhere. I slept on the delivery room floor when my sister was in labor the first time. The only things guaranteed to wake me up are my alarm clock and my cell phone.
5. I have a horrible sense of direction. I can barely tell my right from my left when I'm in a car. I just bang on the window and hope the driver has the sense to follow my frantic gestures.
6. I have a lead foot. Or so other people say. I tend to go about 45 mph everywhere except the interstate. And I go between 75 and 80 there. Compared to Miami, I'm crawling.
7. I'm a great test taker. Some people get test anxiety. Not me. I tend to blow tests out of the water, which surprises the hell out of people. I guess I play dumb way too well.
8. When I was growing up, I wanted to be an actress. I did a lot of school plays and sang in church. And then someone was overly harsh in criticism and I developed stage fright. It still cripples me today.
9. I actually like people. Most people wouldn't believe this, but it's true. I enjoy people, watching them, listening to them, having those brief minute connections. It's when someone is a total asshole that I get severely annoyed.
10. I was afraid of the dark until I was around 18. I mean have to have a nightlight in the room afraid of the dark. Considering the subject of my writings, most would think I love the dark. Nope. Only if I'm trying to sleep. I blame reading The Blob when I was in elementary school.
And there you have it! I'll try and post on a more regular basis now, with updates about the re-release of the first two Jude Magdalyn books and writing in general. But remember--life always manages to get in the way...
The idea for this post came from a fellow writer (C.J. Ellison--check her out!) who in turn got it from another writer. The original post was 20 Things, but that's way too much info. A girl has to have some mystery, right?
TEN THINGS YOU DON'T/DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT ME
1. I've lived in the same town my entire life. With the exception of a grand total of six months spent in various cities, I've spent all 20-odd years of my life in Tallahassee.
2. The first place I went was church. Three days old, and I'm in church. I'd like to say I still have that level of commitment, but I have bills to pay. And I think God understands.
3. My alarm clock is old enough to vote. I've had the same clock for close to 18 years. That's longer than some marriages. Speaking of alarm clocks...
4. I can sleep through almost anything. Seriously. Tornadoes, torrential rainpour, rock concerts. And I can sleep almost anywhere. I slept on the delivery room floor when my sister was in labor the first time. The only things guaranteed to wake me up are my alarm clock and my cell phone.
5. I have a horrible sense of direction. I can barely tell my right from my left when I'm in a car. I just bang on the window and hope the driver has the sense to follow my frantic gestures.
6. I have a lead foot. Or so other people say. I tend to go about 45 mph everywhere except the interstate. And I go between 75 and 80 there. Compared to Miami, I'm crawling.
7. I'm a great test taker. Some people get test anxiety. Not me. I tend to blow tests out of the water, which surprises the hell out of people. I guess I play dumb way too well.
8. When I was growing up, I wanted to be an actress. I did a lot of school plays and sang in church. And then someone was overly harsh in criticism and I developed stage fright. It still cripples me today.
9. I actually like people. Most people wouldn't believe this, but it's true. I enjoy people, watching them, listening to them, having those brief minute connections. It's when someone is a total asshole that I get severely annoyed.
10. I was afraid of the dark until I was around 18. I mean have to have a nightlight in the room afraid of the dark. Considering the subject of my writings, most would think I love the dark. Nope. Only if I'm trying to sleep. I blame reading The Blob when I was in elementary school.
And there you have it! I'll try and post on a more regular basis now, with updates about the re-release of the first two Jude Magdalyn books and writing in general. But remember--life always manages to get in the way...
February 3, 2011
The Craziness of Everyday Life
I find myself on a very tight deadline. Through the combination of sickness, work, more sickness, personal stress and crazy bitches calling my phone for reasons that only make sense in the minds of immature twenty-something year-olds and even more immature men, I'm behind. I have right at 5 days to finish writing New Moon Rising. Not because there's a publisher and editor and other individuals breathing down my neck. But because I said I would have it finished and published by a certain date and not doing that would annoy me more than the insane work schedule I'm about to embark on.
There's nothing unordinary or otherwordly or just flat weird about the crap I'm dealing with. It's actually pretty ordinary all around. Everybody has strange work schedules. Everybody gets sick. I'm not sure if everybody has crazy ex's with crazier current girlfriends but I don't think I'm the only one so I'm going to count it as an ordinary thing. I'm even more sure that people have to deal with all three of those situations at the same time, as I'm currently doing, which is where the title of this very over-due and very short blog comes from.
Life is crazy. Everyday life is a special kind of nuts. So why would anyone add to that nuttiness with massive projects such as writing a book or recording a cd or working on an independent movie? I think the answer lies in the fact that for those of us with a creative bent, all of that is everyday life. It's as much a part of our makeup as a cow getting milked (sorry, my brain is short on analogies right now). What's nuts for other people is to some extent normal for us. Because I'm sure other people don't have brainstorming sessions about who the town villian is. But for a writer, that's probably something high on the normal side.
Or that might just be a special kind of craziness.
There's nothing unordinary or otherwordly or just flat weird about the crap I'm dealing with. It's actually pretty ordinary all around. Everybody has strange work schedules. Everybody gets sick. I'm not sure if everybody has crazy ex's with crazier current girlfriends but I don't think I'm the only one so I'm going to count it as an ordinary thing. I'm even more sure that people have to deal with all three of those situations at the same time, as I'm currently doing, which is where the title of this very over-due and very short blog comes from.
Life is crazy. Everyday life is a special kind of nuts. So why would anyone add to that nuttiness with massive projects such as writing a book or recording a cd or working on an independent movie? I think the answer lies in the fact that for those of us with a creative bent, all of that is everyday life. It's as much a part of our makeup as a cow getting milked (sorry, my brain is short on analogies right now). What's nuts for other people is to some extent normal for us. Because I'm sure other people don't have brainstorming sessions about who the town villian is. But for a writer, that's probably something high on the normal side.
Or that might just be a special kind of craziness.
January 18, 2011
Moving Forward...Or Crawling Forward
Ok, I know it sounds extremely bad and dire, but it really isn't. I'm just a little tired--although I do have fabulous new hair. But none of that is actually what this long overdue blog is about.
I hate editing. I have no problem saying it. I hate editing. Not with the passion of say, a thousand exploding suns, but there is a fierceness to my hatred of editing. I know why it has to be done. I can even appreciate why it has to be done. It does not mean I have to like doing it by any means.
I think I hate it more because I always know when I can't put it off anymore. Usually around the 3/4 through mark on a book, I realize everything wrong with it. From major plot points to scene changes to massive cuts, all of it hits me at about page 250-300 on the writing side. And with all of that change just staring at me in the face, the writing comes to a screeching halt. My brain refuses to move forward until I fix all the prior mistakes.
Very little is more aggravating to a writer than having your brain refuse to do any flippin' work. And so in a fit of childishness, I get pissy at the the thing preventing me from doing what I want to do. Hence my hatred of editing.
But the good news is that I've cleared that ginormus hurdle with New Moon Rising. Provided I get the all clear from my phenomenal writing partner, I've fixed all the craptatasticness of the first draft. Which means everything I write now, with the mojo flowing like good cheap vodka on a Wednesday night, will be on point with what came before. Which will make the second round editing that much easier.
So, I'm moving forward. Maybe a little faster than a crawl. But I'm not up to running yet.
I hate editing. I have no problem saying it. I hate editing. Not with the passion of say, a thousand exploding suns, but there is a fierceness to my hatred of editing. I know why it has to be done. I can even appreciate why it has to be done. It does not mean I have to like doing it by any means.
I think I hate it more because I always know when I can't put it off anymore. Usually around the 3/4 through mark on a book, I realize everything wrong with it. From major plot points to scene changes to massive cuts, all of it hits me at about page 250-300 on the writing side. And with all of that change just staring at me in the face, the writing comes to a screeching halt. My brain refuses to move forward until I fix all the prior mistakes.
Very little is more aggravating to a writer than having your brain refuse to do any flippin' work. And so in a fit of childishness, I get pissy at the the thing preventing me from doing what I want to do. Hence my hatred of editing.
But the good news is that I've cleared that ginormus hurdle with New Moon Rising. Provided I get the all clear from my phenomenal writing partner, I've fixed all the craptatasticness of the first draft. Which means everything I write now, with the mojo flowing like good cheap vodka on a Wednesday night, will be on point with what came before. Which will make the second round editing that much easier.
So, I'm moving forward. Maybe a little faster than a crawl. But I'm not up to running yet.
January 5, 2011
"I Don't Care What They Say About Me, As Long As It Isn't True."
I love Dorothy Parker. Or her quotes, anyway. Pithy, original, and current even today even though it's been more than a few decades since Ms. Parker was throwing them out. The one above is one of my favorites--it's actually pretty close to the way I'm trying to live my life. Trying--I'm not sure how close I am to succeeding, but at least I'm making an effort.
I'm still relatively unknown enough that I don't have readers and fellow writers bombarding me with e-mail of either the love or hate variety. When I do finally get that first piece of hate mail, I'm going to keep that quote in mind. Because let's face it, hate is a pretty unreasonable emotion. It's gonna make you say crazy and kooky things. But as long as it isn't true, what does it matter?
More introspection later. For now, lunch and naptime calls...
I'm still relatively unknown enough that I don't have readers and fellow writers bombarding me with e-mail of either the love or hate variety. When I do finally get that first piece of hate mail, I'm going to keep that quote in mind. Because let's face it, hate is a pretty unreasonable emotion. It's gonna make you say crazy and kooky things. But as long as it isn't true, what does it matter?
More introspection later. For now, lunch and naptime calls...
December 28, 2010
Brief Update
Allow me to apologize both for the recent lack of posts and for the shortness of this one. Work is trying to kill me. No, seriously--it's trying to kill me. Last week I did 52 hours, this week will be about the same, next week probably a few hours more. So I'm very tired and very cranky.
And what I thought would be a respite isn't likely to happen. The hazards of auto maintenance have reared their ugly heads. That may make sense only in my head. If it doesn't, then you understand my pain. So I may be traveling, which is both awesome and annoying and always monetarily bad.
So in essence, I'm not having the best of Decembers. But that's okay. Because I'm going to rock in the New Year like a, well, rock star. If I remember any of it, I'll post it. Maybe with pics. If not, I'll make up elaborate lies and post those. Either way, there will be a post on Saturday.
And that, my friends, is all for now.
And what I thought would be a respite isn't likely to happen. The hazards of auto maintenance have reared their ugly heads. That may make sense only in my head. If it doesn't, then you understand my pain. So I may be traveling, which is both awesome and annoying and always monetarily bad.
So in essence, I'm not having the best of Decembers. But that's okay. Because I'm going to rock in the New Year like a, well, rock star. If I remember any of it, I'll post it. Maybe with pics. If not, I'll make up elaborate lies and post those. Either way, there will be a post on Saturday.
And that, my friends, is all for now.
November 29, 2010
Giving Thanks
Before anyone starts, I'm aware of the late nature of this blog. But I worked six days last week, including Thanksgiving, Black Friday, the FSU/UF game, and the day after--I needed a day to remember exactly what I was thankful for besides Tylenol, vodka, and my bed.
My Family
Expected, but true. My grandmother died December 9 of last year; this is the first Thanksgiving without her. It hurts. I won't pretty it up. There have been moments through the entire year where I've seen something or done something or went by someplace that reminded me of her and I would get teary-eyed. We all know that death is real and that it eventually comes for people we love. But for some reason whenever it does come it's still a shock to everything we are. So this year I'm thankful for my mother, my sister and her husband and kids, my uncle (even though he drives me nuts) and my cousins.
My Job(s)
Firstly, because waiting tables pays my bills. I'm always thankful to get my bills paid. I actually do something of a happy dance after it happens. But I'm also thankful for my job because it's introduced me to a ton of crazy, weird, amazing people (more on some of them later). I enjoy talking to people (most of the time) and I feel like being in a job where I have to read people and interact with them has made me more stand-on-my-ownish. And I'm thankful for writing because I feel like if I didn't write I would spend entirely too much time in my head--or that I would spend entirely too much time spouting gibberish. Writing gives me the chance to tell an amazing story in my own voice and way and to hopefully leave a mark on the world.
My Friends
Now I'm naming names. Because these are awesome people, each in their own way. In no order of importance:
Sam--aka The Sam, M1. We met at Village Inn. We've been there together for what seems like forever. We finish each other's sentences, back each other up, support each other and whatever bad decisions we make, and are close in inseparable.
Katie--aka My Biat-cha (seriously--that's how she is in my phone). We met at Village Inn (pay attention, you'll start to see a pattern here). She's crazy. Seriously crazy. She's my wild friend, the one who could call me and say she ran off and got married in Vegas and all I would ask was why I wasn't invited. We can go months without talking and yet we'll pick up a convo like we just talked five minutes before. We'll dance at each other's weddings or help cover up a murder.
Michele--runs a close second to Katie in the crazy department. Our bonding came after one dinner with friends--we decided to drive to New Orleans together. We've pretty much been the party duo since then. It used to be said that if a party was organized by me and promoted by Michele, it was a must attend. Christmas party last year? One word--EPIC. We're close to inseparable, but in a crazier way.
Pamela--my writing partner across the pond. We've never physically met but once we hooked up through WeBook we've clicked and we've been rocking ever since. We read each other's works, offer constructive criticism, do some butt-kicking when it's needed, and just all around support each other. Here's to a year of writing, the first of many, and fingers crossed that someday we'll see each other's works in the bookstore and give happy squees of delight.
Tony and Cole--These two guys are nuts. Put Michele, Cole, Tony and I in the same room and shit gets real. They're the male version of Michele and I and that includes the drinking capabilities. We can go off on a riff without almost any other provocation and just go for hours. They are awesome in every way imaginable and I can't wait to meet up with them in Vegas.
And finally--R.
R. doesn't fall into the category of friend or family and definitely not job. He's a category all his own. To simplify matters, R. is the person I talked about a few posts back. He's The One. So while I'm thankful for him because he's The One, I'm also thankful for other reasons. Being with him and waiting on him has taught me a new level of patience--I have a feeling that I'm going to learn multiple levels of patience because of him. I've also learned not to settle for less than what I want--in this case, R. Most importantly, I've learned to trust my own judgment and follow my own instincts. Recently I told a friend that I wanted her to meet R.--her response was that she didn't know if she would like him. I told her I didn't really care either way--I don't need her approval, I just wanted her to meet the man that I want to spend the rest of my life with. Before R., I would have hemmed and hawed and questioned my gut. Not now. So I'm thankful not just for who R. is but how R. has changed me.
So, that's my thankful list. There are other things, such as great reviews and great reviewers, but what's above is the top of the list. And now I'm off to read one last book before going back to my writing schedule of craziness.
My Family
Expected, but true. My grandmother died December 9 of last year; this is the first Thanksgiving without her. It hurts. I won't pretty it up. There have been moments through the entire year where I've seen something or done something or went by someplace that reminded me of her and I would get teary-eyed. We all know that death is real and that it eventually comes for people we love. But for some reason whenever it does come it's still a shock to everything we are. So this year I'm thankful for my mother, my sister and her husband and kids, my uncle (even though he drives me nuts) and my cousins.
My Job(s)
Firstly, because waiting tables pays my bills. I'm always thankful to get my bills paid. I actually do something of a happy dance after it happens. But I'm also thankful for my job because it's introduced me to a ton of crazy, weird, amazing people (more on some of them later). I enjoy talking to people (most of the time) and I feel like being in a job where I have to read people and interact with them has made me more stand-on-my-ownish. And I'm thankful for writing because I feel like if I didn't write I would spend entirely too much time in my head--or that I would spend entirely too much time spouting gibberish. Writing gives me the chance to tell an amazing story in my own voice and way and to hopefully leave a mark on the world.
My Friends
Now I'm naming names. Because these are awesome people, each in their own way. In no order of importance:
Sam--aka The Sam, M1. We met at Village Inn. We've been there together for what seems like forever. We finish each other's sentences, back each other up, support each other and whatever bad decisions we make, and are close in inseparable.
Katie--aka My Biat-cha (seriously--that's how she is in my phone). We met at Village Inn (pay attention, you'll start to see a pattern here). She's crazy. Seriously crazy. She's my wild friend, the one who could call me and say she ran off and got married in Vegas and all I would ask was why I wasn't invited. We can go months without talking and yet we'll pick up a convo like we just talked five minutes before. We'll dance at each other's weddings or help cover up a murder.
Michele--runs a close second to Katie in the crazy department. Our bonding came after one dinner with friends--we decided to drive to New Orleans together. We've pretty much been the party duo since then. It used to be said that if a party was organized by me and promoted by Michele, it was a must attend. Christmas party last year? One word--EPIC. We're close to inseparable, but in a crazier way.
Pamela--my writing partner across the pond. We've never physically met but once we hooked up through WeBook we've clicked and we've been rocking ever since. We read each other's works, offer constructive criticism, do some butt-kicking when it's needed, and just all around support each other. Here's to a year of writing, the first of many, and fingers crossed that someday we'll see each other's works in the bookstore and give happy squees of delight.
Tony and Cole--These two guys are nuts. Put Michele, Cole, Tony and I in the same room and shit gets real. They're the male version of Michele and I and that includes the drinking capabilities. We can go off on a riff without almost any other provocation and just go for hours. They are awesome in every way imaginable and I can't wait to meet up with them in Vegas.
And finally--R.
R. doesn't fall into the category of friend or family and definitely not job. He's a category all his own. To simplify matters, R. is the person I talked about a few posts back. He's The One. So while I'm thankful for him because he's The One, I'm also thankful for other reasons. Being with him and waiting on him has taught me a new level of patience--I have a feeling that I'm going to learn multiple levels of patience because of him. I've also learned not to settle for less than what I want--in this case, R. Most importantly, I've learned to trust my own judgment and follow my own instincts. Recently I told a friend that I wanted her to meet R.--her response was that she didn't know if she would like him. I told her I didn't really care either way--I don't need her approval, I just wanted her to meet the man that I want to spend the rest of my life with. Before R., I would have hemmed and hawed and questioned my gut. Not now. So I'm thankful not just for who R. is but how R. has changed me.
So, that's my thankful list. There are other things, such as great reviews and great reviewers, but what's above is the top of the list. And now I'm off to read one last book before going back to my writing schedule of craziness.
November 18, 2010
Miles and Miles to Go...Through the Woods
I'm a city girl. I have no shame in saying this. I enjoy the noise, the closeness to a hundred amenities, the relative anonymity of being one of a hundred thousand. Having said that, I don't like big cities. My hometown caps out at slightly under 200,000 and during the summer we lose at least 50,000 of that--the colleges empty out and Tallahassee becomes something out of a ghost town. Traffic is easier to deal with and people are just nicer than during the school year.
Despite--or maybe because--of my love for the city, I'm both intrigued and freaked out by nature. Nature being woods. I'm not freaked out by fields. Well, as long as the grass is short. When it gets really tall I'm reminded of scenes from The Lost World and Predators. I'm not freaked out by lakes or rivers or oceans. Well, unless I've watched something like Lake Placid or Piranhas or whatnot. Come to think of it, nature is pretty brutal, so I guess being freaked out by it isn't all that weird.
But the woods are where the major freak out area. Maybe it's the limited visibility. Maybe it's all the weird random noises that you hear in the woods. Who knows, maybe it's all the flippin' green. Whatever the reason, the woods freak me out. So it's interesting that most of New Moon Rising is set in a highly wooded area, if not in the actual woods.
I'm not writing to overcome my freaked out feeling about nature. That's just the way the story needs to be written. But it's interesting writing slightly outside of my comfort zone. We'll see how long that holds up, but for now it's different and enjoyable. And now I'm going to eat lunch with my friend who will not stop yapping at me until I get up and get dressed and go listen to her whine about something, who knows what it is this week, until we both start laughing about ridiculousness.
Despite--or maybe because--of my love for the city, I'm both intrigued and freaked out by nature. Nature being woods. I'm not freaked out by fields. Well, as long as the grass is short. When it gets really tall I'm reminded of scenes from The Lost World and Predators. I'm not freaked out by lakes or rivers or oceans. Well, unless I've watched something like Lake Placid or Piranhas or whatnot. Come to think of it, nature is pretty brutal, so I guess being freaked out by it isn't all that weird.
But the woods are where the major freak out area. Maybe it's the limited visibility. Maybe it's all the weird random noises that you hear in the woods. Who knows, maybe it's all the flippin' green. Whatever the reason, the woods freak me out. So it's interesting that most of New Moon Rising is set in a highly wooded area, if not in the actual woods.
I'm not writing to overcome my freaked out feeling about nature. That's just the way the story needs to be written. But it's interesting writing slightly outside of my comfort zone. We'll see how long that holds up, but for now it's different and enjoyable. And now I'm going to eat lunch with my friend who will not stop yapping at me until I get up and get dressed and go listen to her whine about something, who knows what it is this week, until we both start laughing about ridiculousness.
November 8, 2010
Working on a Deadline
First off--it's a new look! If I mentioned this already, we'll pretend that I didn't because I don't remember which for me means that it probably didn't happen. And I'm aware of how strange that sounded. Anyway, new look for the blog. We'll see how long it lasts. Either I'll get bored with it and change it or I'll be constantly distracted by it and change it or I'll just get used to it. Who knows.
Second, thanks again to Blog with Bite, Quackers & Tease, and The Bookish Snob for hosting me on my first blog tour. I don't know how far reaching the results will be, but I'm counting on word of mouth to help sales and such along. The more people who buy, the more it helps my income. The more my income goes up, the less I have to work at the bill paying job. The less I work there, the more I write. The more I write, the more I can get out for readers. It's a beautiful, vicious, thrilling cycle.
In my efforts to flout tradition and forge my path, I've decided to release a book every 3.5-4 months, or roughly 4 books a year. At this point, it's looking like 2 for each series, which means by this time next year there will be 4 Jude Magdalyn books and 2 Cari Gravier books. If I go completely psycho, I'll manage to work in a fifth book, completely new series, but I'm not placing bets on that quite yet. The characters of that particular series are stubborn and secretive and very, very quiet. I actually didn't hear anything from them for quite a while, and then suddenly BAM! I wrote 9 pages. Maybe I'm back on track, maybe it was a fluke. I'll find out eventually.
I've never actually written on a deadline. Well, for school and papers, but I haven't written a book on a deadline. The closest I've come to a deadline was doing edits for Shades of Desire, something that nearly drove me nuts. The edits, not the deadline. Publishing actually came out ahead of the deadline, so I guess I live for pressure, even it makes me slightly anal and definitely cranky.
So while I'll do my best to keep the blogs to about one a week, maybe two if I'm feeling chatty, please understand that I'm trying to be professional. Trying. The self-imposed deadlines may actually snap any professionalism I may have, but here's hoping that it doesn't. So if I drop off the radar, don't worry. I'm alive. I'm writing. And I'm probably a little crazy.
Second, thanks again to Blog with Bite, Quackers & Tease, and The Bookish Snob for hosting me on my first blog tour. I don't know how far reaching the results will be, but I'm counting on word of mouth to help sales and such along. The more people who buy, the more it helps my income. The more my income goes up, the less I have to work at the bill paying job. The less I work there, the more I write. The more I write, the more I can get out for readers. It's a beautiful, vicious, thrilling cycle.
In my efforts to flout tradition and forge my path, I've decided to release a book every 3.5-4 months, or roughly 4 books a year. At this point, it's looking like 2 for each series, which means by this time next year there will be 4 Jude Magdalyn books and 2 Cari Gravier books. If I go completely psycho, I'll manage to work in a fifth book, completely new series, but I'm not placing bets on that quite yet. The characters of that particular series are stubborn and secretive and very, very quiet. I actually didn't hear anything from them for quite a while, and then suddenly BAM! I wrote 9 pages. Maybe I'm back on track, maybe it was a fluke. I'll find out eventually.
I've never actually written on a deadline. Well, for school and papers, but I haven't written a book on a deadline. The closest I've come to a deadline was doing edits for Shades of Desire, something that nearly drove me nuts. The edits, not the deadline. Publishing actually came out ahead of the deadline, so I guess I live for pressure, even it makes me slightly anal and definitely cranky.
So while I'll do my best to keep the blogs to about one a week, maybe two if I'm feeling chatty, please understand that I'm trying to be professional. Trying. The self-imposed deadlines may actually snap any professionalism I may have, but here's hoping that it doesn't. So if I drop off the radar, don't worry. I'm alive. I'm writing. And I'm probably a little crazy.
