Das Eiserne Kreuz

Whenever I'm silent on my own blog, it means I'm super-stressed (well, that state is in the past, but accounted for most of my silences over the last 6 months), depressed/blocked (whining in public is an indulgence I try to stay away from - nobody cares to hear a writer whining) or busy writing.

I'm happy to inform you guys that I'm busy writing. Enforcing bank house style on analysts while powered with free coffee and a remarkably sane, pleasant environment is fifteen kinds of good for my writing. My Spotify subscription keeps feeding me new music (I need a certain type of music to fall into the page) and generally, I enjoy hanging out with writer friends.

Yesterday I considered that I'll soon have Rachel Haimowitz as a guest on the blog (I still need to come up with something cool to ask her - or in the absence of cool interesting will do), and while we chatted about websites and stuff, I introduced her to weebly.com (which is my provider for my website) and quickly whipped a first draft together for her. Since the first version, it's been improved, but here's her new site. Header by Gileonnen (yes, the same one who co-wrote "Collateral") Go browse. And follow her blog tour - there's plenty of free books to win.

Me, I've been busy learning the new house style and rewriting the nonsense some financial people rush out of the door (and keep from laughing at German-isms in some reports - sometimes I want to call the people and tell them "this doesn't mean what you think it means", but that would be gloating). But I've always enjoyed working on texts (mine are harder to fiddle with), and dealing with non-fiction leaves the brain fresh to work on fiction. Everybody wins. Me most of all.

So. What am I writing? Saturday I completed my developmental edits of "Father of all Things", which is now with Rhianon to get checked before it goes back to Carina. Sunday I built that website (and badgered Gileonnen into helping me with the bits I couldn't do - I'm graphically challenged). And both Saturday and Sunday, I wrote "Iron Cross". One scene came out absolutely beautifully. I'm really in tune with the characters now. I know them, deeply, closely, and I love them both, deeply, truly. I even connect with the supporting cast and the evil guy/s. This is a straight from the heart book. The book I want to write if I only had two weeks left to live. And I don't care if anybody buys it. I've already pulled it from one publisher (as I needed more time), and this one I'll polish like a fire opal to get all colors out of the dull stone.

So, yeah, 600 words here and 1,200 words there. Slow by my standards, but I really can't rush this one. I'll have to go the full 90-100k with this one, and this means measured steps, every single one deliberate like Tai Chi movements. The main struggle is to make it flow, so self-consciousness makes stuff harder than it has to be.

But I read those 1,200 words and they are really, really good. Sometimes my literary delusions are rearing their funny little heads again, sprouting every now and then when my ego's close to bursting, but those words were exactly how I wanted them to come out. Unity of intention and result in writing is so unbelievably rare that the words ring extremely loud in my inner ear when it's exactly, exactly what I wanted to say. There on the page. Not a dream. Real. Tangible. Frozen for eternity. There are few bigger thrills to a writer. It's when you strike gold. When the singer hits the note so clear and strong the energy soars right through every vein in pure light. Nothing in the world is better.

So, I'm going to reward myself for getting back into the book and get myself a replica of the medal that plays such a big role in the book. I think it might help keep me focused as it's sitting on my desk. And keep me grounded in the more somber facts behind the book.