Kate Lowell's Blog, page 41
January 14, 2014
Tuesday Tickle: Pine Nuts and Honey
Don’t look at my progress bars. Or rather, my ‘lack of progress’ bars. It’s been a week, but I’m going to try to catch up on a few things, not the least of which is sleep. We had an all night pool party in my basement last night, compliments of a January thaw, a bunch of rain and a cranky sump pump. But, despite that, I’m going to make words tonight. After I tickle you all.
The follow-up to Nuts About You, takes place several months later. Nathan and Vince are settling into that part of the relationship where things are familiar, but that familiarity itself is exciting. And Nathan’s sheer lack of judgement, as always, comes into play:
Nathan could have walked over to Vince’s in human form if he’d wanted. He’d done it before—it wasn’t that far, maybe a half an hour if he walked fast. And it was summer now. No cool breezes or sudden cold rain squalls to spoil the trip.
But there was something fun, almost illicit, in making the trip cross country in squirrel form. Climbing up one of the trees in Vince’s back yard, peeking in the windows to spy on his boyfriend. He still managed to catch him in the shower on a regular basis. Just the thought of it made him chitter in excitement as he bounded across the grass and up the trunk of the old oak tree. He scrambled out to the edge of the branch—
Dammit. Too late for his shower fantasies.
He spun around with a quick flick of his tail and raced for the ground. A magnolia tree half hid the window to the master bedroom. The branches were thin, but if he was quick, he could run the length of one of the stronger ones and make the jump from it to the windowsill.
Assuming the window was open. He didn’t try that on cold days anymore.
Something about this little guy always makes me smile.
Filed under: Nutty Romances, Tuesday Tickle Tagged: mm romance, romantic comedy, shifter, weresquirrel
January 10, 2014
On Offices and Pavlov’s Author
I think the fact that it’s Friday again is a good thing, though the speed with which all my deadlines are screaming towards me is a bit daunting. I need to find a more efficient way to get stuff done around the house, so I have more time to write. I did get a bunch done last night, so hopefully I’ve broken that little block into smithereens.
I’m planning a writing office. I have the desk and a small aquarium, so I’ll have company up there. A huge whiteboard is the next purchase, then a bookshelf to keep all my research books on. For some reason, I can’t read non-fiction on the ereader. So a bookshelf to collect the pretties is a necessity. You might think an office dedicated to what is essentially a part-time job is a bit–self-indulgent? Pretentious? Unnecessary? It could be.
But I’ve come to the conclusion that I need an environment that encourages me to be in ‘writer mode’. If I’m going to take this seriously (and I do), I need a dedicated desk. Maybe even a dedicated computer. I need a place to brainstorm where I don’t have to pack up and put away my work somewhere awkward because I write in a space that’s also given over to a million other activities. I need a place to keep track of receipts and income and–ugh–income tax. I need a place where I can put reminders to myself all over and not have to worry about other people getting the wrong idea. (Okay, that last one is a bit silly–if they read any of the notes I leave myself, there wouldn’t be any chance of the wrong idea. 
)
Mostly, the office needs to be a place where I’m comfortable, but not too comfortable, and where I can train myself to drop into that odd ‘writerspace’ as soon as I walk in–Pavlov’s writer. Yes, it’s great having my desk in the kitchen, because I can nip over while making supper and throw fifty words onto a story, but it makes it too easy to be interrupted. You might be working, but you’re right there. Whereas, out of sight really does often mean out of mind. And I wonder if having that physical transition into the writer space will help trigger the right mindset with more regularity than any of my usual routines.
With another room, on a different floor, Pavlov’s writer might have a chance to write, and Pavlov’s writer’s daughter might decide it’s easier to reset the modem herself than to yell “Mom!” and drag me out of the pivotal moment of the best scene in the book. Or the hard parts where I’m gritting my teeth and promising myself ice cream if I’m good and finish just 200 more words.
I think I can do it, without too much trouble. I need to move some things out of this spare bedroom, clean up the junk and triage it into keepers and non-keepers. Find a whiteboard in a size I like. (Wonder if work has any that they’re throwing out? Hmmmm) Decide on a fish.
And find a reliable warlock to put a curse on anyone who disturbs me. Anyone have Harry Dresden’s number? I need to talk to Bob.
Filed under: Uncategorized, writing Tagged: offices, separation of work and home, writing mindset
January 9, 2014
Every one of these is true: Delilah Dawson on Publishing
Delilah S. Dawson: 25 Damned Sirty Lies About Publishing
Especially #13. Typical email:
“Hi, here’s your edits. Can I have them back tomorrow morning?”
*Cue frantic revisions, numerous cups of coffee and the sudden appearance of bald patches on my scalp*
Weeks pass. The dust builds up. Spiders are building cobwebs on my keyboard. (Not really, because there’s always a bunny to work on, but you get the drift.) I’ve practically forgotten about this manuscript.
*Ding* “You have mail.”
“Hi, here’s your edits. Think you can turn it around by tonight?”
*Dies*
Filed under: writing Tagged: books, miracles, writer's life
January 7, 2014
Tuesday Tickle: Love Underground
Voilà, my incredibly NOT inventive title. This is my short story in the Absolute Write fundraising anthology. 60, 000 words of smutty goodness, for both folks that like boys that like girls, and folks that like boys that like boys. My story, of course, is about a boy who likes a boy, who likes him back.
It’s got something for everyone: a little kink, a little sweet romance, a lot of raunch and a whole pile of emotion. On top of that, all proceeds from the anthology go to the Absolute Write forums, where beginning writers can learn the rules of the game, get help, find encouragement and–in their turn–pass on their experience to newer writers. This is where your next favourite writer comes from, folks–buy a book, read some excellent writing and ensure a steady supply of new and wonderful stories in your future. (By the way, we are planning a second one–calls for submission will be going up soon).
All Romance Ebooks
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
In the meantime, here’s a bit of Jaime and Henry, from my story Love Underground:
I took a deep breath and Jaime took a kiss, which was a very nice way to end a breath. I tried to keep the kiss going but he was determined to drag me further into the abyss, so I sighed and made sure I got to keep one of his hands for my trouble. He grinned at me, as if he knew what I was thinking, but it was worth it for the hand.
And I was going to need it. In front of us, the cave narrowed until it looked like a ten year old wouldn’t fit through.
“Ummmm, Jaime, are you planning to go through there?”
He used the hand I had confiscated to pull me up against him. I snuggled into the warmth of his chest and breathed in his scent. He laughed and kissed me, one large hand covering the one I had slid into the back pocket of his shorts. I squeezed his ass and genteelly humped his leg—an open invitation to cancel the hike and find someplace warmer and less damp.
“You know,” I continued, undulating against him, “we could just go home and have a little private party.” A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth as I felt his interest pushing back against me. “C’mon, whaddya say?”
He laughed and kissed me, leaving me panting and completely at his mercy. “I swear, you’ll love this. Trust me. I’ve never steered you wrong, have I?” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he waited patiently for me to talk myself around.
I sighed and looked toward the crack he wanted to squash me through. “How do you know we can even get through there? What if we get stuck half way?”
“Henry, do you really think I’d take you somewhere dangerous? Besides, I checked it out this morning while you were getting your beauty sleep.”
“And did it work?” Oh, shameless of me, I know, but who doesn’t like a good compliment when half the world was waiting to fall on their head?
“Did what work?”
Ouch. “The beauty sleep, you goof!”
His arms tightened and he buried his face in the crook of my neck. “You’ve never needed it.” And if his lips against my skin hadn’t already been setting off streaks of heat heading straight for my groin, that phrase would have done it.
I thought I had successfully escaped my fate when his hand slid down to cup my ass, but he pulled back and took another step towards the crack in the wall.
“C’mon, I’ll go first.”
With a sigh, and five or six deep breaths to store as much oxygen as possible, I let him lead me into the darker dark.
Filed under: Tuesday Tickle Tagged: Absolute Write Fundraiser, mm romance, Underground Erotica
January 6, 2014
January 3, 2014
Input = Output
So, holidays are over, and it’s back to work. Back to the day job, back to the night job, back to writing. Not that I wasn’t trying to write over Christmas, but Mother Nature had other ideas:
This was two storms ago. I can see the corners wearing away on my poor shovel and am already plotting a replacement.
In the midst of all my nature-inspired strength and endurance training, I forgot to read. For those of you who write, you know full well how important it is that a writer continue to read. Inside their genre, outside their genre–it doesn’t matter. But, I was ‘hooked on shoveling’ (or trapped in shoveling, if I wanted to get out of the house), and so my poor Kobo lay on my bedside table, a forlorn and forgotten object.
Then my muse got pissed, because I wasn’t giving him/her/xem anything. For those who think that muses are delicate creatures, who need to be coaxed and seduced into cooperation–boy, are you wrong. Muses are bratty, rough, coarse and very, very self-oriented. That’s why we spend so much time courting them–they’ve got more ego than a whole roomful of Hollywood stars and have no compunction about flying the coop if they don’t get exactly what they want.
So, while the snow flies and the wind whistles about my house, I’m making offerings to my muse, in the form of my TBR pile. The Peacock Prince is my current bait–I was surprised because I thought the premise wouldn’t work, and yet it does. Next up, I’m not sure–Flesh Cartel comes out tonight. And I have Fortune’s Pawn, which is not erotic romance, but an interesting and well-written scifi.
And there’s my own stuff to work on. Because now that I’m putting out for him/her/xem, there’s a slow strip-tease of plot occurring, a gradual reveal of the curves and edges of the storyline. Not everything, not yet, and certainly not enough to satisfy, but it keeps me coming back.
Just like a good striptease should.
Filed under: Uncategorized, writing Tagged: mm romance, muse, winter
January 1, 2014
Sometimes Writing is a Lot Like Judo
I remember, many years ago, when I was still a yellow belt. My sensei and I were playing–I think he was checking to see if I was ready to test for my orange belt yet. Through a set of circumstances that I don’t remember any more, I managed to footsweep him onto the mat, then dropped and pinned him long enough to ‘win’ the ‘match’.
2013 was a lot like that. I wrote and sold my first novella. It got decent reviews. Then I sold a novelette, which got excellent reviews. Then, even in the middle of the chaos and despair of the fall, I finished a Christmas novella and, somehow, managed to keep my own black, bleak emotions out of it. That was a win in my year, because where I was was leagues away from where Shawn and Rob were.
What happened after I pinned my sensei? Well, he proceeded to remind me that, yeah, I’d worked hard, and there were some things I did well, but I still had things to work on. And then he dribbled me around the tatami for about ten minutes. Not long enough to do any real harm to my self-confidence, but enough to keep the ego swelling to a minimum. I spent more time on my back and my rear than I did on my feet. But, by the end, I moved through one of his footsweeps and kept my feet, so I did learn something. Even if I did end up spinning through the air and landing on my back right after, when he turned the failed footsweep into a hip throw. And from that, I learned to be ready to change directions and plans quickly when my first try didn’t work.
So, I got an R&R, or Revise and Resubmit, the other day. It hurt. The comments poked holes in a story that’s been something I would consider some of my best and most difficult work. It’s like that moment, where I’m still trying to figure out why I’m lying on the mats instead of standing in front of my sensei–I don’t have any memory of getting there, and I’m embarrassed that it happened at all and I have no idea how it happened.
But an R&R is better than a rejection, right? Problem is, I don’t have a clue how to tackle this and I’m wondering if my yellow belt skills are enough of a base to even get close. I’ll concede their points, but it’s a major revision that runs through the entire story. And I’ll be doing it on my own, without the editorial direction I’ve grown accustomed to when things get this intense. To be honest, it scares me.
But I can change directions. And maybe, just maybe, this is me, training for my orange belt in writing. And if I take my time, and pay attention, and beg help from all and sundry, and most of all learn from my mistakes, perhaps, when the day of my test arrives, I’ll be ready.
Filed under: writing Tagged: ego deflation, revisions
December 31, 2013
Happy New Year!
My 2013 was a mixed year. I sold some books, got an R&R that’s scared the pants off me, and spent most of the year in some stage of familial crisis. Still, I like to look at it this way: after what 2013 has done to me, 2014 must have something spectacular in store, so
Happy New Year and hopes for a spectacular 2014 for everyone!
Filed under: Random Weirdness Tagged: happy new year
December 30, 2013
Interesting Video on Surveillance Tech and Society
It’s funny how much of this stuff is predicted by speculative fiction, in some way or another, long before it shows up. The constant struggle between the appearance of safety, the individuals right to privacy and freedom, and the rapidly evolving ability of organizations and corporations to access our information and our virtual footprints, and find new ways to use that information, is going to be the thing that drives the future of our society. What will our world look like 200 years down the road, at the current and future rate of change in tech, in societal conventions, in global climate?
I thought it was interesting how much they emphasized the use of our data by companies. And how careful they were in what they were saying, especially when they were being critical.
Filed under: Random Weirdness Tagged: tech
December 27, 2013
Belated Tuesday Tickle: Bite Me (Later)
A quick Tuesday Tickle tonight, because I did promise. But I have to run and shovel again, because it snowed (again!) and is supposed to snow tomorrow, then some more on Sunday, then a storm is supposed to drop by on Monday to leave behind a bunch more–you guessed, it–snow.
Snow is a four letter word around here right now.
I almost envy Levi, out camping in the woods on a warm late June night. Well, except for what happens:
Really, running was a stupid thing to do. They should have climbed a tree and waited the pack out. But they were committed now and few of the trees on this side of the brook had limbs that would hold their weight anyway. But if they could make it across the log bridge…
Branches whipped at Levi’s face, sharp needles bringing tears to his eyes.The path back to the brook blurred in front of him and he stumbled over a tree root.
“Shit!”
Bryan paused to grab him by the arm and pull him upright again. “Come on!” They ran, lungs burning in their chests, with the howls and the crashing of the underbrush getting closer all the time.
The wolves caught up to them as they burst out of the woods and stumbled into the brook. Levi reached under the water and heaved the biggest rock he could lay his hands on up to his shoulder. “Run!” he yelled, and launched his missile at the closest of the predators, then spun and raced for the other side of the brook. Behind him, he heard a yelp, and splashing as the wolves jumped into the water after them.
I thought they were afraid of humans.
Filed under: Bite Me Later, Tuesday Tickle Tagged: mm romance, werewolves
