Hart Johnson's Blog, page 45
February 5, 2013
I'm Schrodinger's Cat
Welcome to Digressuary 6
What the heck am I on about Schrodinger's Cat for? Because of course it is first Wednesday, and therefore the day we have Insecure Writers Support Group. And I'm feeling... perhaps insecure...
See, it's like this...
No, lemme back up. What is Schrodinger's Cat?
Schrodinger was a mean rotten scientist that liked to make people imagine horrible things for the purpose of stretching their wee brains philosophically.
It goes something like this:
There is a cat in a box with some radio active something something poison something and there is exactly equal likelihood that the poison has or has NOT released and killed the cat... well philosophically, instead of saying there was equal probability, this nut wants us to think BECAUSE WE DON'T KNOW, the cat is alive and dead at the same time. Both possibilities exist.
What does that have to do with me?
One word: ABNA. Okay, that's an acronym. Five words: Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award Contest.
Right now we are ONE WEEK away from hearing if our pitches passed us to the next round. Chances are my pitch has been read... I am both alive and dead right now.
Of course in the grand scheme of the contest, only 5 of 10,000 get prizes, so probably I am headed for certain death, but I might live a little longer yet... long enough to go for a walk...
ALSO this week: I sent 5 queries... those are on top of the 7 I think I still have 'out there'. Most likely am dead on those. Odds aren't nearly as good as living another week in the ABNA contest...
But see... the thing of it is, unlike Schrodinger's poor cat, we can play this thing over and over and over... until we live!!!
So LIVE friends! LIVE! Even if you have to die a bunch of times first! Erm...
Politics of Adipose
Happy Digressuary 5, amigos!
They're a little precious, aren't they?
Today we are talking about Adipose... Adipose the lost planet from Doctor Who... and how that would play out for real...
A summary, for those of you unfamiliar, is this: The planet of Adipose was lost, but they wanted to continue the species. So a 'nanny' came to earth to 'incubate' these little guys... she gives this 'pill' to people eager to lose weight, and then each night, a new little adipose, made of people's body fat, LEAVES... person is a kilo lighter, the adipose is newly born... everybody happy, yes? (except in the disturbing case where a person is awake to see said adipose flee... and when they panic and use ALL the person's tissue, so the person basically dissolves... but never mind.)
But lets step back from this... if you could lose weight and KNEW you were creating a species of aliens... would you be okay with that? I think on the assurance that they were all going to LEAVE soon... and take part of my fat with them... I'd be perfectly content with this arrangement. Had I been on this adipose plan since January 1, I'd be all but done by now. A kilo a night? That would be 70 pounds by now! Instead I am down a measly 9. I'm all for a little inter-planetary cooperation where everybody wins.
The SAD part, though, is SOME people might still do it knowing the risk of death, dissolution and world takeover... There are girls who would rather be thin than smart. (GAH! The things we value! erm... GAH, in this case is a synonym of ACK--I know I lack consistency here). I'm serious about this. They've polled teenage girls and girls would trade intelligence... even years of life... for attractiveness.
Those silly things... because even among the one-time gorgeous, physical beauty is sort of a fleeing thing. Though my friend Mary posted something on Facebook yesterday that gave me some hope. She's been at a party over the weekend--mostly couples 60 and older... she said, "you know, laughter is better than a facelift for making everybody look younger." So remember THAT. Laugh a lot, and don't be willing to give up life or intelligence for petty stuff.
They're a little precious, aren't they?
Today we are talking about Adipose... Adipose the lost planet from Doctor Who... and how that would play out for real...
A summary, for those of you unfamiliar, is this: The planet of Adipose was lost, but they wanted to continue the species. So a 'nanny' came to earth to 'incubate' these little guys... she gives this 'pill' to people eager to lose weight, and then each night, a new little adipose, made of people's body fat, LEAVES... person is a kilo lighter, the adipose is newly born... everybody happy, yes? (except in the disturbing case where a person is awake to see said adipose flee... and when they panic and use ALL the person's tissue, so the person basically dissolves... but never mind.)
But lets step back from this... if you could lose weight and KNEW you were creating a species of aliens... would you be okay with that? I think on the assurance that they were all going to LEAVE soon... and take part of my fat with them... I'd be perfectly content with this arrangement. Had I been on this adipose plan since January 1, I'd be all but done by now. A kilo a night? That would be 70 pounds by now! Instead I am down a measly 9. I'm all for a little inter-planetary cooperation where everybody wins.
The SAD part, though, is SOME people might still do it knowing the risk of death, dissolution and world takeover... There are girls who would rather be thin than smart. (GAH! The things we value! erm... GAH, in this case is a synonym of ACK--I know I lack consistency here). I'm serious about this. They've polled teenage girls and girls would trade intelligence... even years of life... for attractiveness.
Those silly things... because even among the one-time gorgeous, physical beauty is sort of a fleeing thing. Though my friend Mary posted something on Facebook yesterday that gave me some hope. She's been at a party over the weekend--mostly couples 60 and older... she said, "you know, laughter is better than a facelift for making everybody look younger." So remember THAT. Laugh a lot, and don't be willing to give up life or intelligence for petty stuff.
February 3, 2013
Dae Dae, Mare Mare, and Lare
Or the Imaginary Friends Bloghop
Now I know a bloghop doesn't seem all that Digressy, but imaginary friendships do, and I am convinced I can digress adequately for the spirit of the month... See, already I've failed to get to the point!
*cough*
Cat the Dreamer and Kyra Lennon are hosting for Cat's blogiversary. And it's EASY! Just share about the imaginary friend you had or wished you had (and when).
My son the Imaginary Friend (Sworder)
My imaginary friends pre-date my memory. I was little. REALLY little. [I mean seriously--look what I named them. How old could I BE?] I was also the only child, oldest grandchild and on my own for play. Both my parents worked. I am shy and awkward... so why NOT make up a couple companions, eh?
Dae Dae was female, and counter to my actual inclinations at the time, Mare Mare and Lare were male (I was a little frightened of boys until my mid 30s). I don't remember blaming them for much, though I suspect they may have eaten a lot of candy from the dish at my grandma's house. And probably they spotted me as I used the back of the couch as a balance beam or climbed the bookshelves (thankfully the built-in sort, or I would have been a crushed child a thousand times over), but I DID spend most of my childhood climbing, dangling, balancing or tumbling (the on purpose kind).
I did a little research on the matter in college, and imaginary friends are most common among onlies and oldest children who are enough older that they have some time in there that their younger sibling isn't worth much as a playmate. USUALLY though, they come as stand-alones. It isn't clear to me why I had a troop of them, unless I was already intent on world domination. Gotta have people to practice on if you want to learn to be bossy!
On a side note, some of you may remember that my son IS an imaginary friend.
February 1, 2013
Plotwalking
Welcome to Digressuary!
Digressuary 1 Submission: My New Superpower
So know how the weather's been full of suckage lately? I've had THREE days this week I had to walk a different route to work, two for fear of drowning (okay, so maybe it is more a fear of having wet socks all day) and one for the very near miss of falling on my hiney... Well on ALL THREE stuff was falling from the sky.
Now I don't melt. And snowfall means it's NOT cold enough for a bundled, walking person to actually FREEZE. And you know... I USED to think it was only a very high maintenance person indeed who grumbled about rain or snow. I used to LIKE THEM. But I've taken up a habit and they interfere.
And there is the constant fear of this, which I've experienced
NORMALLY I walk to work and read at the same time. SOMETIMES I walk along editing instead. Do you know what books and manuscripts are made out of? PAPER. Do you know what PAPER hates? GETTING WET! You know what INK hates? Being forced to bleed in tragic blue lines so they no longer hold their original meaning. So I no longer care for stuff falling from the sky. Not rain. Not snow. Not bird poo (were y'all around when the bird pooed on my MS? True story). Not even leaves, but mostly because they are an indicator Winter is coming and I HATE THE STARKS FOR THAT!
You can maybe see why books don't like water
So my latest editing project, WHAT ALES ME, a nearly cozy mystery centered around microbrewing and Portland, is in 'first edit'. First edit for me is 'the read' in preparation for 'big edit' but I can't seem to stop myself doing small edits on the way. First edit is something I can do as I walk (unlike big edit which requires a lot more writing and must therefore be done naked *cough*).
And I've been FRUSTRATED! I want to edit. I need to edit. And wet stuff is falling from the sky! BLUERG! Or is it BLEURG!? I get those two confused.
I'd like rain again if this would happen
But you know... two days in a row, as I walked in my grumbly non-editingness, my BRAIN engaged and I filled PLOT HOLES!!!! GAH! And by GAH I mean w00t w00t!
That is huge. Know why? Because I LOVE my character list, setting, set up... but the murder itself was missing a little UMPH. And I umphed it! TWICE!
I WIN!
*cough *
Seriously, though... I need to remember to just WALK now and then. At least if I have holes to fill.
How about you? Any writing superpowers? Any OTHER superpowers?
January 31, 2013
Stacy Gail is Nobody's Angel!!!
I mean she WROTE Nobody's Angel... Okay, so both things are true...
DO NOT buy that sweet innocent act.
Stacy is one of my REAL LIFE friends, though we met and bonded online for a long time before actually meeting face-to-face, but we've been friends since 2005, serious mind-meld friends, when she was solidly in the closet as a writer and I was still of the belief that 'author' was one of those things you only DREAMED of becoming. In fact Stacy was one of my earliest encouragers, and to this day remains one of my top three beta buddies (Leigh and Leanne, you rock, too)--I have lots more fabulous friends who help, but these three poor souls get almost EVERYTHING.
Now Stacy is ALSO a special case. (In more ways than one, eh, sister?) *cough* She made her initial publishing contacts and found her first opportunities on Twitter. Now I've been known to say you have to be on crack to follow Twitter. Erm... Maybe I should just leave it there...
Seriously, though, the other people who can Tweet are people with ADHD and Stacy seems to fit THAT profile... she is EVERYWHERE (and has usually take our shared brain with her, leaving me babbling)... she responded to calls for novella submissions, and has managed, in the last 18 books to publish FIVE (6?) novellas (wow, yeah?)... and land herself her first FOUR BOOK Contract for full-length fiction, beginning HERE...
So I will let Stacy tell you about THAT... Without Further Ado, WELCOME STACY!!!
Our friend Rissa's depiction of Stacy
Before we begin, I’d like to give huge thanks to Hart for allowing me to drop in to gab about my latest release and the start of The Earth Angels paranormal romance series, NOBODY’S ANGEL. Thanks, Your Tartness!
Wow, has it been a wild ride getting NOBODY’S ANGEL out of my scrambled brain and into the world. It might appear all pretty and shiny with the excellent marketing/artwork Carina Press always puts forth, but things have a way of looking easy-peasy when you see only the finished product. ;)
So, where did it all begin? Oy. To be honest, this series didn’t start with NOBODY’S ANGEL, really. It was just this massive, messy idea about 21st-century descendants of the Nephilim, an ancient race of angel-human hybrids considered to be mistakes, even abominations, in the eyes of heaven. After that plot bunny parked its fat rear front and center in my mind’s eye, I had no choice but to figure out what sort of personality could live under the pressure of knowing they’re a celestial boo-boo. Once I had that established, I settled on about half-dozen or so characters I wanted to play with.
Zeke Reece, the hero of NOBODY’S ANGEL, kicks things off in a fast-paced, high-flying adventure that was, in part, inspired by my love of comic books (I read them to this day, though not as religiously as I used to as a kid ;) ). Considering the material I was working with, that only makes sense. When you’ve got super-powered people, you HAVE to have at least one of them take up the role of superhero, complete with mask, awesome powers, a secret fortress… and oh, yeah. The creepiest super-villain I could dream up. O_o
So Zeke is the official superhero of The Earth Angels series, but he’s far from perfect. Not only does he hate being a member of the Nephilim, he has trouble sharing the burden that comes with it. When a phantasm called a geist targets Kendall Glynn, a journalist who’s just psychic enough to see its presence as well as Zeke’s supernatural abilities, he does his best to protect her. But Kendall, who’s terrified of the bizarre element that has slipped into her life, is determined to help herself out of this fix. She’s no quitter, and when she uses her own researching skills to uncover the true culprit, Zeke has to accept that there are times when he’s the one who needs help.
As of this writing, all four books in The Earth Angels series have been completed, with the first three fully edited and already in Carina Press’s publishing schedule for 2013 (I posted this schedule on my own blog here). The fourth and final book is now being revised and will be shipped off to my editor this week (I hope), and after completing the series, I have to say it’s been a wild ride. There will never be another “first” series for me, so The Earth Angels—and Zeke and Kendall, who start the ball rolling—are near and dear to my heart.
Hummina hummina...
EXCERPT:
“I can’t believe it…”
“There was so much blood.”
“What happened?”
Fragments of conversation hit Kendall Glynn from all sides, but the words were no more than an irrelevant buzzing in her brain. She was just as oblivious to the emergency vehicles scattered outside San Francisco’s top-rated KPOW TV station. Some of her colleagues were crying, while others spoke to police. The sea of people behind the yellow crime-scene tape all looked the same—eager spectators hoping for a glimpse of more blood, more madness.
She’d had enough of both to last a lifetime.
“Miss? Have you been treated?”
Kendall’s zombielike shuffling halted at the deep melodic voice close to her, and she turned to discover an EMT had appeared at her side. For a long moment she stared at him while his words slipped across the frozen surface of her mind without leaving a mark.
“I’m not hurt.” Her voice came from far off, unrecognizable and rough around the edges. Which made sense. The last time she’d used it had been to scream.
And scream.
And scream.
“You might not be hurt, but you are in shock.” Somehow she was moving again, heading for the back of an empty ambulance. It wasn’t until he helped her into it that she realized he’d pulled her along like a lost two-year-old. “I’m going to check you out, okay?”
“This blood, it’s not mine.” Amazing, how calm she sounded.
“I understand.” After settling her on the side of a gurney, the paramedic lifted her chin with a gloved hand and flashed a penlight across her eyes. “You’ve got lovely eyes, just like emeralds. Do you have a name?”
“Kendall Glynn.”
“My name is Zeke Reece. I’m going to take your vitals now, okay, Kendall?”
“I’m not hurt.” He had to understand she wasn’t the one who needed his attention. “The others, Dave Beamer and Jane Walters, they’re the ones who...” Oh, God.
“They’re being taken care of.” A blood-pressure cuff slipped over her arm. Began to squeeze. “You were close to them when it went down, right? Can you tell me what happened?”
“I don’t know.” Confused, she shook her head. “One second Dave was doing his job—smiling into the camera and reading the copy I wrote about a couple of murder-suicides. It was my first lead story.”
“Congratulations.”
“Maybe he didn’t like how I wrote it.” She couldn’t seem to stop shaking her head.
“The next thing I knew, Dave was choking our anchorwoman so hard I thought he’d snapped her neck, before he took his pen and…”
“Easy.” Zeke moved to sit beside her and pushed her head between her knees. “You’re not allowed to go that white, Kendall. Makes me think you’re going to faint.”
“I don’t know what happened,” she said again, closing her eyes and willing the queasiness to pass. “Everyone was screaming. It wasn’t until I got close to Dave that I realized he was yelling the loudest. It’s like he was possessed, jamming his pen into his own neck while he screamed for someone to stop him. I jumped on top of him, but…” She gulped in air until the ringing in her ears went away. “I think he’s dead. I think Dave is dead.” She trembled on the verge of admitting she’d seen the essence of Dave’s life drain away, just as she’d witnessed her grandfather’s life essence drift from his body in the hospital when she was a child. She’d told her mother about it, and had been reprimanded for letting her imagination run away with her like crazy Aunt Maggie, a woman who read palms and talked to spirits for a living. But deep down Kendall had always suspected what she’d seen that day was real, and Aunt Maggie probably wasn’t as crazy as her family claimed.
After tonight, though, she couldn’t help but think she might not be standing as securely on the stable ground of sanity as she’d once believed.
BLURB:
Book one in The Earth Angels
Investigative journalist Kendall Glynn is horrified when a friend and colleague signs off permanently during a live newscast, jabbing a pen into his jugular. Kendall's no expert, but judging by the strange white veil in the anchorman's eyes, she would swear he was a man possessed.
A descendant of the accursed Nephilim, Zeke Reece prowls San Francisco by night, keeping the city free from paranormal phenomena. But even he is no match for whatever malevolent force is behind a recent rash of murder-suicides. And when a beautiful tenacious reporter becomes the next target, Zeke has no choice but to stay close to her, until he can find the evil spirit and cross it over.
The closer Kendall gets to the truth, the more danger she's in. Fortunately, a sexy and mysterious masked stranger keeps swooping in to the rescue. Kendall's life depends on finding who or what is responsible for the killings, before it finds her.
33,000 words
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads
Question: With a multitude of paranormal-based movies, graphic novels and books on the market today, what do you think the next “big thing” will be? (Please no mention of sparkly vampires, thanks. The Tart has an allergy. :D) Leave a comment and you’ll be entered in my giveaway of a $25 Amazon GC!
[Poor baby can be MY angel...]
DO NOT buy that sweet innocent act.
Stacy is one of my REAL LIFE friends, though we met and bonded online for a long time before actually meeting face-to-face, but we've been friends since 2005, serious mind-meld friends, when she was solidly in the closet as a writer and I was still of the belief that 'author' was one of those things you only DREAMED of becoming. In fact Stacy was one of my earliest encouragers, and to this day remains one of my top three beta buddies (Leigh and Leanne, you rock, too)--I have lots more fabulous friends who help, but these three poor souls get almost EVERYTHING.
Now Stacy is ALSO a special case. (In more ways than one, eh, sister?) *cough* She made her initial publishing contacts and found her first opportunities on Twitter. Now I've been known to say you have to be on crack to follow Twitter. Erm... Maybe I should just leave it there...
Seriously, though, the other people who can Tweet are people with ADHD and Stacy seems to fit THAT profile... she is EVERYWHERE (and has usually take our shared brain with her, leaving me babbling)... she responded to calls for novella submissions, and has managed, in the last 18 books to publish FIVE (6?) novellas (wow, yeah?)... and land herself her first FOUR BOOK Contract for full-length fiction, beginning HERE...
So I will let Stacy tell you about THAT... Without Further Ado, WELCOME STACY!!!
Our friend Rissa's depiction of Stacy
Before we begin, I’d like to give huge thanks to Hart for allowing me to drop in to gab about my latest release and the start of The Earth Angels paranormal romance series, NOBODY’S ANGEL. Thanks, Your Tartness!
Wow, has it been a wild ride getting NOBODY’S ANGEL out of my scrambled brain and into the world. It might appear all pretty and shiny with the excellent marketing/artwork Carina Press always puts forth, but things have a way of looking easy-peasy when you see only the finished product. ;)
So, where did it all begin? Oy. To be honest, this series didn’t start with NOBODY’S ANGEL, really. It was just this massive, messy idea about 21st-century descendants of the Nephilim, an ancient race of angel-human hybrids considered to be mistakes, even abominations, in the eyes of heaven. After that plot bunny parked its fat rear front and center in my mind’s eye, I had no choice but to figure out what sort of personality could live under the pressure of knowing they’re a celestial boo-boo. Once I had that established, I settled on about half-dozen or so characters I wanted to play with.
Zeke Reece, the hero of NOBODY’S ANGEL, kicks things off in a fast-paced, high-flying adventure that was, in part, inspired by my love of comic books (I read them to this day, though not as religiously as I used to as a kid ;) ). Considering the material I was working with, that only makes sense. When you’ve got super-powered people, you HAVE to have at least one of them take up the role of superhero, complete with mask, awesome powers, a secret fortress… and oh, yeah. The creepiest super-villain I could dream up. O_o
So Zeke is the official superhero of The Earth Angels series, but he’s far from perfect. Not only does he hate being a member of the Nephilim, he has trouble sharing the burden that comes with it. When a phantasm called a geist targets Kendall Glynn, a journalist who’s just psychic enough to see its presence as well as Zeke’s supernatural abilities, he does his best to protect her. But Kendall, who’s terrified of the bizarre element that has slipped into her life, is determined to help herself out of this fix. She’s no quitter, and when she uses her own researching skills to uncover the true culprit, Zeke has to accept that there are times when he’s the one who needs help.
As of this writing, all four books in The Earth Angels series have been completed, with the first three fully edited and already in Carina Press’s publishing schedule for 2013 (I posted this schedule on my own blog here). The fourth and final book is now being revised and will be shipped off to my editor this week (I hope), and after completing the series, I have to say it’s been a wild ride. There will never be another “first” series for me, so The Earth Angels—and Zeke and Kendall, who start the ball rolling—are near and dear to my heart.
Hummina hummina...
EXCERPT:
“I can’t believe it…”
“There was so much blood.”
“What happened?”
Fragments of conversation hit Kendall Glynn from all sides, but the words were no more than an irrelevant buzzing in her brain. She was just as oblivious to the emergency vehicles scattered outside San Francisco’s top-rated KPOW TV station. Some of her colleagues were crying, while others spoke to police. The sea of people behind the yellow crime-scene tape all looked the same—eager spectators hoping for a glimpse of more blood, more madness.
She’d had enough of both to last a lifetime.
“Miss? Have you been treated?”
Kendall’s zombielike shuffling halted at the deep melodic voice close to her, and she turned to discover an EMT had appeared at her side. For a long moment she stared at him while his words slipped across the frozen surface of her mind without leaving a mark.
“I’m not hurt.” Her voice came from far off, unrecognizable and rough around the edges. Which made sense. The last time she’d used it had been to scream.
And scream.
And scream.
“You might not be hurt, but you are in shock.” Somehow she was moving again, heading for the back of an empty ambulance. It wasn’t until he helped her into it that she realized he’d pulled her along like a lost two-year-old. “I’m going to check you out, okay?”
“This blood, it’s not mine.” Amazing, how calm she sounded.
“I understand.” After settling her on the side of a gurney, the paramedic lifted her chin with a gloved hand and flashed a penlight across her eyes. “You’ve got lovely eyes, just like emeralds. Do you have a name?”
“Kendall Glynn.”
“My name is Zeke Reece. I’m going to take your vitals now, okay, Kendall?”
“I’m not hurt.” He had to understand she wasn’t the one who needed his attention. “The others, Dave Beamer and Jane Walters, they’re the ones who...” Oh, God.
“They’re being taken care of.” A blood-pressure cuff slipped over her arm. Began to squeeze. “You were close to them when it went down, right? Can you tell me what happened?”
“I don’t know.” Confused, she shook her head. “One second Dave was doing his job—smiling into the camera and reading the copy I wrote about a couple of murder-suicides. It was my first lead story.”
“Congratulations.”
“Maybe he didn’t like how I wrote it.” She couldn’t seem to stop shaking her head.
“The next thing I knew, Dave was choking our anchorwoman so hard I thought he’d snapped her neck, before he took his pen and…”
“Easy.” Zeke moved to sit beside her and pushed her head between her knees. “You’re not allowed to go that white, Kendall. Makes me think you’re going to faint.”
“I don’t know what happened,” she said again, closing her eyes and willing the queasiness to pass. “Everyone was screaming. It wasn’t until I got close to Dave that I realized he was yelling the loudest. It’s like he was possessed, jamming his pen into his own neck while he screamed for someone to stop him. I jumped on top of him, but…” She gulped in air until the ringing in her ears went away. “I think he’s dead. I think Dave is dead.” She trembled on the verge of admitting she’d seen the essence of Dave’s life drain away, just as she’d witnessed her grandfather’s life essence drift from his body in the hospital when she was a child. She’d told her mother about it, and had been reprimanded for letting her imagination run away with her like crazy Aunt Maggie, a woman who read palms and talked to spirits for a living. But deep down Kendall had always suspected what she’d seen that day was real, and Aunt Maggie probably wasn’t as crazy as her family claimed.
After tonight, though, she couldn’t help but think she might not be standing as securely on the stable ground of sanity as she’d once believed.
BLURB:
Book one in The Earth Angels
Investigative journalist Kendall Glynn is horrified when a friend and colleague signs off permanently during a live newscast, jabbing a pen into his jugular. Kendall's no expert, but judging by the strange white veil in the anchorman's eyes, she would swear he was a man possessed.
A descendant of the accursed Nephilim, Zeke Reece prowls San Francisco by night, keeping the city free from paranormal phenomena. But even he is no match for whatever malevolent force is behind a recent rash of murder-suicides. And when a beautiful tenacious reporter becomes the next target, Zeke has no choice but to stay close to her, until he can find the evil spirit and cross it over.
The closer Kendall gets to the truth, the more danger she's in. Fortunately, a sexy and mysterious masked stranger keeps swooping in to the rescue. Kendall's life depends on finding who or what is responsible for the killings, before it finds her.
33,000 words
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads
Question: With a multitude of paranormal-based movies, graphic novels and books on the market today, what do you think the next “big thing” will be? (Please no mention of sparkly vampires, thanks. The Tart has an allergy. :D) Leave a comment and you’ll be entered in my giveaway of a $25 Amazon GC!
[Poor baby can be MY angel...]January 30, 2013
Digressuary: You're Invited
Know how February is the worst month EVER?
You don't?
Well lemme e'splain...
Seems combining holidays would improve them greatly
Stupid Holidays
You know, I could probably forgive Groundhog's Day. Who DOESN'T love a rodent holiday? But it is followed fairly soon by EASTER and that darned bunny reminds us that Groundhogs don't hide candy. Or presents. Or money. They just HIDE. And then there is that sappy St. Valentine's Day, named for a guy who, for all we know, never ONCE got laid (they don't saint people who have sex do they?). Yet we go out and spend money and think WE'RE going to get lucky? What are the odds of THAT? And then there is presidents' day... which I don't even get OFF, but never mind... but it's REAL purpose is to remind us that though there have been 44 presidents, we only get ONE holiday for them.
yeahno. DONE with this.
But my REAL ISSUE?
Is it STILL winter? For real? You have GOT to be kidding me. I'm tired of it already, now move along. In all cases I like the beginning of a season much better than later in the season, but winter is my least favorite season. Winter sucks. It makes me cold and I can't abide it. I even felt this way in Oregon where winter was just gray and rain. GO AWAY NOW.
What Am I To Do About It?
I'm replacing February this year with Digressuary. I'm hoping it will bring my Digressionista, Mari, back out of the blogging woodwork, will reconnect me with my faith (I practice Digression religiously) and help us forget DUMB FEBRUARY!!! For a month we will play, be silly and digress. So there. I am empress of the world and dib it so. Or at least empress of my blog... but if anyone wants to join me in PLAYING AWAY the rest of the bloody winter, PLEASE DO!
Note: Very amusing stuff if you 'Google Image' Digressionista... all from Mari, Tara and I, it seems...
And if anyone wanted a REAL blog today, I am over at Burrowers, Books and Balderdash, talking about PLOTTING!
January 28, 2013
Allow Me To Introduce Myself
I'm a girl of wealth and taste...
Wait, that's not right. Wealth seems to keep alluding me, and as to taste... I can't really condone that. I just don't believe in it, except where food is concerned. So what am I on about?
TODAY is a day where the blogging writing community is hoping to welcome oodles of newerish bloggers by making it easier for all of us to get to know each other. If you want more info, or to sign up, go check it out HERE.
And as usual, I see I've forgotten to follow directions... too many words. Any sticklers on rules, just read the purple part:
ALL ABOUT ME!
Erm... yes, well... that IS what I'm supposed to talk about, yes? Is it wrong I like that?
*cough*
I am four score blondes and brunettes between the ages of 16 and 19 and a half... wait, that's not right... but it DOES get to the explainer about Watery Tart, my online persona... she sprang from Monty Python in all the absurd silliness I could muster. That is who you will generally meet around here (also fitting because I wrote my first several books in the bathtub--still plot there), even though by day I'm a social scientist of some (unfathomable) respect, and when I write books I like to go very dark places.
I just decided when I started blogging that I had enough things in my life that were serious, and I wanted my blog to be something FUN. Hopefully my readers find it fun, too (I think most do).
I still try to be periodically helpful, and occasionally I am compelled to take on a serious subject, but you will note in my labels that the two most frequent topics are 'writing' and 'pure insanity'.
As for me, the writer... What can I say? I have FOMS (fear of missing something, explained here, mid blog) so I join a fair few writing events (I do WriMos twice a year and always enter the Amazon contest(ABNA)). I've written 14 books, a mix of YA and adult—all toward the darker side—classified as suspense or mystery. I've been writing seriously since 2006 (though I had a lot of false starts before that)... actually mastered plotting with fan fiction (Harry Potter), of all the Bizarro World details.
I published my first book last (actually 7th written, but never mind) year under the pen name Alyse Carlson. It's a cozy mystery and part of a three book contract (2nd comes out in May). I'm actively trying to sell one of my YA books and have another entered in ABNA—And just got a KILLER (that's double entendre, by the way) idea this weekend for one that I'm sure will prod at me until I can find time to write it, though I'm currently editing one of my mysteries (top right corner always has what I'm doing).
And I would be remiss if I didn't invite all of you to join the Naked World Domination Movement... I have a theory that naked people are nicer (because they are more comfortable) so I encourage everyone to give in to their inner nudist... And as the title Watery Tart implies... I don't actually want to be in charge when we take over the world, because that is a lot of WORK WORK WORK, but I do want to pick the leaders.
Oh. And I'm obsessed with llamas. And possibly man-butts.
Me, as portrayed by my friend, Rissa
Wait, that's not right. Wealth seems to keep alluding me, and as to taste... I can't really condone that. I just don't believe in it, except where food is concerned. So what am I on about?
TODAY is a day where the blogging writing community is hoping to welcome oodles of newerish bloggers by making it easier for all of us to get to know each other. If you want more info, or to sign up, go check it out HERE.
And as usual, I see I've forgotten to follow directions... too many words. Any sticklers on rules, just read the purple part:
ALL ABOUT ME!
Erm... yes, well... that IS what I'm supposed to talk about, yes? Is it wrong I like that?
*cough*
I am four score blondes and brunettes between the ages of 16 and 19 and a half... wait, that's not right... but it DOES get to the explainer about Watery Tart, my online persona... she sprang from Monty Python in all the absurd silliness I could muster. That is who you will generally meet around here (also fitting because I wrote my first several books in the bathtub--still plot there), even though by day I'm a social scientist of some (unfathomable) respect, and when I write books I like to go very dark places.
I just decided when I started blogging that I had enough things in my life that were serious, and I wanted my blog to be something FUN. Hopefully my readers find it fun, too (I think most do).
I still try to be periodically helpful, and occasionally I am compelled to take on a serious subject, but you will note in my labels that the two most frequent topics are 'writing' and 'pure insanity'.
As for me, the writer... What can I say? I have FOMS (fear of missing something, explained here, mid blog) so I join a fair few writing events (I do WriMos twice a year and always enter the Amazon contest(ABNA)). I've written 14 books, a mix of YA and adult—all toward the darker side—classified as suspense or mystery. I've been writing seriously since 2006 (though I had a lot of false starts before that)... actually mastered plotting with fan fiction (Harry Potter), of all the Bizarro World details.
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I published my first book last (actually 7th written, but never mind) year under the pen name Alyse Carlson. It's a cozy mystery and part of a three book contract (2nd comes out in May). I'm actively trying to sell one of my YA books and have another entered in ABNA—And just got a KILLER (that's double entendre, by the way) idea this weekend for one that I'm sure will prod at me until I can find time to write it, though I'm currently editing one of my mysteries (top right corner always has what I'm doing).
And I would be remiss if I didn't invite all of you to join the Naked World Domination Movement... I have a theory that naked people are nicer (because they are more comfortable) so I encourage everyone to give in to their inner nudist... And as the title Watery Tart implies... I don't actually want to be in charge when we take over the world, because that is a lot of WORK WORK WORK, but I do want to pick the leaders.
Oh. And I'm obsessed with llamas. And possibly man-butts.
Me, as portrayed by my friend, Rissa
January 26, 2013
Reintroduce Blogfest Monday
I don't normally blog on the weekend, but it occurred to me this morning that I knew a bunch of groovy people (my friends old and new at ABNA) who haven't quite found their blogging groove. And MONDAY, there is a perfect time to dive into the deep end with a lifeguard on duty.
Say what?
I know. I sort of enjoy straining metaphors. Sue me.
What I mean is... the Reintroduce Yourself Blogfest is Monday... there is still time to sign up. And what it offers as a 'blog shopper' (someone looking for new blogs to follow) is you get to come in on a day where you can learn about the blog owner and make a decision on actual 'get to know you' information, rather than stumbling in on the day they need to obsess about slugs, or top 40 hits, or kale. There are lots of topics that might be covered by people we might otherwise like, but if we stumble in on THAT day, we will never know they really are a great fit.
So if you have a blog but haven't been maximizing that whole NETWORKING thing with it, we'd love you to join!
The information on it is HERE... just sign up at the bottom of the list. Easy peasy. And then on MONDAY post an 'about you' post.
Gratuitous Llama picture
January 24, 2013
Embrace Your Inner Freak
As the Sun moves unto Aquarius, the timing seems right, ya know?
I'm a Cancer, five signs away from Aqurarius, and there is no prediction whatsoever about how we should get along. But I've been thinking about it... My fabulous Grandma Alyse was an Aquarius...
And did you know I had three good friends when I was four... the friendships I've held longest in my life... ALL of whom I am still friends with... who strangely, ALL are Aquarians... Shelley was first... she lived across the street... then Peggy, who probably has been my longest close-all-the-way through friend... and Gary, whose Mom babysat me afternoons after nursery school and kindergarten (because school was half days and my parents worked all day) (and whose birthday it is—Happy Birthday!)
So I was indoctrinated early that people who marched to a different drummer really were more fun to hang around with. They had a better sense of self, more creativity of expression... and while Peggy was with me through those core insecure teen years, so I know it wasn't doubt-free, all these people became fabulously individual people.
You know, Aquarius is ruled by Uranus (yes, there is a joke in there... I will wait for Ron Weasley to tell it, but I've thrown in some man-butts to get you in the mood)... which is the planet that rules MYSTERIES and the UNUSUAL. And while AIR, the ruling element of Aquarius, sort of sprawls everywhere... you'd think it would be maximally flexible, eh? Yet Aquarius is 'fixed'
Tangent: each astrological ELEMENT (fire, earth, air, water) has three ways of being: Cardinal adapts the environment to suit IT, Mutable adapts to suit the environment, and FIXED—there is no adapting... anywhere (and now you know why Taurus is so stubborn—immovable element in an immovable mode, but never mind): So ALL signs are a different combo of element and way...
Return to regularly scheduled blog: The way my good old 'The Only Astrology Book You Will Ever Need' puts it is Aquarius has all these far out ideas (Uranus) but holds to them very stubbornly.
The Water Bearer by Richard Bulman
I think there is some wisdom to take from this. I think people who use society standards as their metric are ALL going to fall short, because they know their inner flaws and foibles, even if people looking from the outside can't see them. But people who decide to be their OWN metric, will always succeed. Because who could possibly be more you than you?
So I'd like to ask all of you to dig for those unique nuggets in yourself and embrace them....
[and if you'd like, you can appreciate that I managed a theme where naked men totally fit the topic, rather than being entirely gratuitous... Though it IS Naked Thursday
But I warn you, if you follow the paining link... it goes below where I cropped it and you will be able to tell he is circumcised... only go there if you won't be offended (he is better endowed than any of Michelangelo's models... I'm just sayin...]
January 22, 2013
How Writers Write
Oh, I know... y'all aren't representative annallat... but between responses HERE and responses over at ABNA where I posed the same questions (two blogs ago, if you want to look), I got more than 60 results, so not bad at all, as blog polling goes (at least in my experience).
Who ARE you?
Well, all of you are writers... a couple here hadn't finished a book yet (that's okay, we all start somewhere) but we'd written an average (mean) of 5.9 books in 12.1 years. Keep in mind there were some big numbers that skewed these —the MODE (most commonly mentioned response) was 3 books (8 people of 50 who answered that question)—2 and 2.5 also being fairly common.
I ALSO should let you know a number of you started writing ages ago, but if you gave a 'got serious' answer, that was what I used. Not tons of us have been serious for several decades (though there were a few)
About half of you answered here and half over at ABNA. The blog had more missing data, I think just because the format sort of lends to that.
HOW do you Write?
Almost half said fast (23/53), though slow was the #2 response (medium and in bursts also got a decent number). People who write fast or medium had written more books (shocking, I know; though the fact that I got a p value of .06 for a sample of only 60 is quite impressive *shifty*)--about 7 versus in the 3s. What CAN'T be told from this is whether people get faster as they write more books or whether people write more books because they can do it faster. The things sort of go hand in hand.
More than half claimed you write CLEAN (and so I'm just a bit envious). This was NOT different by number of books or years writing.
About half of you only work on one thing at a time. (followed by rotators). The people who worked on multiple books at once several times, mentioned of their own accord, that they have to be different genres.
About half set the book aside before editing, though about a third edit right away and another portion edits as you go (with the leftovers doing some mix)
About half either move on to the next, or at least wait on the current before submitting or publishing. Those who keep going until it is OUT THERE were split between self publishing and submitting.
We are almost evenly split between pantsers, outliners and people who do some level of planning that isn't quite outlining (notes, timelines)
And we are ALL over the board with genre, though YA was most common, followed by varied, though if I'd marked varied for anybody who had more than one, that would have risen to top—oodles put 2 genres.
Mixing it up
Pantsers write faster than outliners. I wonder if outliners count their time outlining as writing time and that explains some portion of this? Just as likely, it takes some effort to follow a plan. (people who judge their speed as medium are evenly split between pantsers and outliners). How we write seems to have NO effect on how clean we judge our books to be. Interesting. Totally would have thought outliners ended up with cleaner books, but about half of both pantsers and outliners are clean. Clean though, DOES absorb a greater portion of the other planning methods.
People who work on multiple works at once are 70% pantsers... One at a timers are planners (either outline or other systems); rotators are more of a mix.
Outliners edit right away, pantsers set it aside (broadly—there are exceptions—more exceptions in the outliners setting it aside category)
How a person writes doesn't seem to have much impact on what a person does once done in terms of publishing, waiting, etc.
I totally thought some pattern would emerge related to experience or genre, but that really doesn't seem to be the case. It was fun, though, to look at us collectively.
