I started my new story a few weeks ago after fighting off the muse as long as I could.  I’m nervous about it though and not just because there’s not a hint of paranormal about it.  That definitely isn’t helping, of course.  How will I solve problems between characters if they can’t even use magic or ESP?

No, I’m worried because my heroine, in a straight Regency, comes to realize that she likes being sexually liberated.  She was a courtesan for years, even begins the story as a courtesan, and when she’s able to get out of that profession, she realizes she’s not able to play at being proper now.  She’s worked hard to make herself financial stable.  She doesn’t feel like playing a role for society.  In fact, she ends up seducing the hero, who’s much more concerned about how society views him than she is.

So, ultimately, my heroine is the rogue and my hero is the prim maiden (without the virginity thing).

And in true romance fashion, my maiden softens my rogue and my rogue brings out the recklessness in my maiden.  Their genders are just reversed.

But honestly, I’m nervous of how it’s going to play out.  I’m messing with conventions that are pretty firmly entrenched and, like all times when messing with convention, it has the possibility to backfire in my face.  Crafting my characters has been interesting, challenging.  A lot of fun.  But will it work out?  Dunno yet.

Have you ever messed with a major romance convention?  Did it work out or not so much?  What authors do a good job of turning convention on their ears?  And how do you even feel about the fact that there are conventions at all?

It’s no secret I’ve felt frazzled these days.

Yesterday, it culminated with my son coming down with some cold that officially made it impossible for him to sleep.  Up all night, no real nap = cranky.  Add a pregnant mom who’s been up all night and the situation became nuclear.

My solution?  Death by pop culture… toddler style.  I zoned on the couch with my kid snugged up against me, his nose running all over my unwashed person while we took in a fill of Dora the Explorer, Go Diego Go, and the incredibly annoying Max and Ruby.  What is with that show?  They’re two kid rabbits living for all intents and purposes by themselves in a house alone.  Where are their parents?  There are other adult rabbits around.  Has no one thought to call child services?  And Max seriously needs to be tested because I think he’s on the autism spectrum.  He says one word the whole show but solves every problem in Penny a la Inspector Gadget fashion.  He’s like Rainman.

This flurry of toddler television is the best I could manage.  Most days, I try to do it all.  I attempt to be entertaining, at least for most of the day, to this kid who’s the light of my life.  He does give me that look now and again.  The one that says, “Why does Daddy leave me with you?  Does he not know how seriously unhinged you are?”  But most of the time, I manage.  In the midst of all the parenting, I try to write a couple hours a day, be a good wife/friend/daughter/etc, and keep the dust bunnies at bay. 

Pregnancy has not helped.  Something about being pregnant reduces your IQ to roughly that of a turnip.  Recently, I don’t have quick comebacks to my three year old.  That’s just pathetic.  When he says stuff like, “You’re bad, mommy, you’ve got to stay in Walmart” (I have no idea what this means, but I think it’s the equivalent of mommy hell) I have no ready response.  I fire back with something along the lines of, “Well, oh yeah?”  which sounds just as stupid here as it does in real life.  I’m only saved by the fact that he doesn’t understand how ridiculous I sound.  Now and again my husband catches this witty repartee but he’s smart.  He says nothing.  He knows I’m a hormonal mess and I’m holding the strings of our life together on a knife edge.

I confess all of this to you not as some sort of therapeutic session.  Deep down, I know I’m doing the best I can.  Pregnancy saps your brain cells.  I think there are studies about this.  (Someone?  Please let there be studies about this.)  I’m tired.  I’m big–awkward.  I can’t get up and down as easy and it’s only going to get worse the next few months.   Logically, I know all of this and acknowledge that I’m managing pretty well on the majority of days and I try to give myself a little slack.  No one expects me to always be perfect.  Only me.

In the same way, I think we try and balance everything when we write.  We try and do it all:  titillating dialogue, fabulous conflict, description that puts us right there.  Characters so real and POV so close that we feel like we’re them.  We try to be fresh; we try to take risks but still stay inside the lines.  We try to put it all together and on the first go around even.  Like if we don’t get it right that time, the story, our careers, everything about us as a writer will be ruined forever.

I don’t know for sure, but I suspect that’s not true, in the same way that my son will probably not be emotionally scarred forever because of one day lazing on the couch watching bad toddler TV with his mom.   Or a few months of his pregnant mommy being less brilliant than she usually is.  *cough cough*

But the fear of failure, the quest for perfection, can absolutely destroy our self-esteem.  It can wreck our good intentions.  And I think maybe, just maybe, we don’t have to be perfect.  Maybe we can just be the best we can and that’ll be enough.

If we let it.

Are you a perfectionist?  What things cross your mind while writing that stop you in your tracks?  Any ready comebacks for a three year old, something more authoritative than, “Because I said so?”

I have two completed manuscripts under my belt (bed?).  The first, a Regency paranormal and the second, a contemporary paranormal. 

I’ve started writing another contemporary paranormal but as I plotted this book, I’ve had to wrestle down another story idea that just won’t leave me alone.  This one:  a dark Regency, not a hint of paranormal anywhere.

I’ve started to wonder if I’m writing schizophrenic.

But something about each of these stories really sang to me.  The characters.  The plot devices.  Just other elements.  And they were both fun to write. 

Also, maybe after just spending a year on a contemporary paranormal, I’d like to do something different for a bit.

I know there are writers out there who write more than one genre.  A little voice inside me says, “That could be you!  You could write one historical and one paranormal every year.”  (Ambitious little voice.  Mustn’t be plugged into what the rest of my body’s up to because if it knew we had another baby on the way, it’d probably sound less perky.)

The creative part of me says, “Go follow your bliss!”  The practical one, the market conscious one, wonders if an agent/publisher might doubt my marketability.

Are any of you going at this thinking you’d like to write in more than one genre?  Could you ever see yourself writing in another genre?  If you do write in two genres, why and what interested you about them?

I’ve started a new story.  This is the third time in so many years I’ve started something new. 

As I remain unagented and unpublished, you can assume my first two attempts haven’t gone the way I hoped.  There are a number of reasons for what’s gone on with them but that isn’t what I’m going to address here today.

Instead, I want to talk about what it means to keep moving forward with those kinds of experiences behind us.

Everyone reads the tales of quick success.  The author who writes one story and sends it to the dream agent who says yes.   Said dream agent then sends it to the author’s dream publisher who also says yes.  Just like that.   No learning curve.  No first book (or three books… or five…) that stays under the bed while the writer hones their craft.  No mountain of rejections or unfortunate critique experiences.  Just a story that the industry immediately loves sent out into a world that immediately loves it too.

I’d love to say I’m not jealous… but I am.  I’d love to say I’m not discouraged… but sometimes I am.  Not always, just sometimes.

Oh there are positive things too.  I’ve come a really long way as a storyteller.  I’ve had some contest finals.  I’ve met a fabulous support system of writers who inspire me.

But as I sit in front of my new story, it’s been hard—so far—not to second-guess each word I type.  The right wording?  The best place to start?  Deep enough POV?

I don’t know the answers to those things.  Part of me says, “Just write it, if it isn’t the right wording/start/POV you’ll find out further along.”  And another part, the part that paralyzes me, says, “Why are you bothering at all?  It’s going to suck, end up under your figurative bed like everything else.”

Sigh. 

I’d like to say “No it won’t!” to that voice, but I don’t know that.  I don’t know if this story will do any better out in the big bad world than the last two attempts.  I have no idea if this is the story that brings me success in the marketplace.  Will it be better than my last story?  Probably.  Good enough?  No clue.

But maybe it will.  I’d love to say I’ll be happy just writing for the rest of my life, no matter if I publish or not.  But I’d be lying.  I want to publish.  That’s the goal I see at the end of all this.  I won’t stop, though, if I don’t publish after this book.  I can’t see that I’ll stop after the next one either.  I can’t foresee a stop point at all, honestly.  Because I keep thinking if I keep going forward, odds will favor me.  I’ll get exponentially better and, if I get a little sprinkle of luck, I’ll eventually hit the jackpot. 

I just need to keep going.  And that’s what I tell myself when I’m doubting my words on my new story.  Keep going. 

So, what keeps you from giving up?  Any fabulous inspirational quotes about writing you can share to get us going?  Or any author’s publishing stories that prove that perseverance pays off?

Hellion’s blogs are always little bursts of brilliance but this one really stuck with me.  It came right at the time when I started querying and started getting some rejections.  At the beginning of the entire process, I think I figured if I didn’t get an agent with this book, my world would come to an end… my life as an author would be over.

*snort*  I know.  But I’ve got a flair for the dramatic. 

But this piece reminds us it only takes that one agent to like your “kind of crazy.”

Love it.

Happy Christmas Eve to all those who celebrate! 

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Earlier this year, I went and saw the movie, UP, which is a brilliant movie designed within the first ten minutes to question your ability to tell stories at all. It’s got love and adventure, tragedy and laughter, danger and a happily ever after. It also has magic that can’t be divined; it’s clearly the magic of creating characters that seem to walk off the screen and into real life.

But you’ll need to watch the movie for yourself to appreciate it. No, I’m going to talk about the little cartoon short that was featured before the movie: Partly Cloudy. It was five minutes long, with no dialogue, but there was no info dumping or backstory—just a brilliant little tale about clouds who made babies (i.e. humans, puppies, kittens) and the one little gray cloud who made other babies (i.e. alligators, sharks, porcupines). Just another nearly crippling blow to my writer’s ego that dialogue wasn’t remotely needed to tell a story that could make you laugh and cry within five minutes, and leave you thinking about it long after.

I bought my DVD copy of the just-released movie and watched it again, still sniffling and crying at the right parts, then laughing hysterically at the baby animals the grumpy cloud creates. Talk about a character I could identify with. I look all around me at other clouds (writers) who are creating characters and stories that are much more mainstream (i.e. humans, puppies, kittens), while I am endlessly fascinated in creating characters and stories slightly off the beaten path (i.e. alligators, sharks, porcupines). And I have thrown more than my fair share of water-logged crying tantrums when my stork (i.e. CPs or potential agents) have flown off to more mainstream writers to work with. How could I blame them? Like the grumpy cloud, I don’t see what’s so special about babies, puppies, or kittens.

However, as I was staring at that baby alligator that the grumpy cloud had created, all I could think, “Awww, look how cute it is! There’s a market for baby alligators. Someone, somewhere, loves baby alligators.” And then the alligator bites the stork and I laughed. After all, that is the sensitive and caring person I am.

The black moment comes after the stork, ever faithful, ever returning for more “off the beaten path” characters, is presented with a shark. He flies off in pure self-preservation; and every writer knows, as the grumpy cloud realized, not every brilliant idea you have is going to be publishable. Or least maybe there might not be a market for it right away. It might have to be something you save for a cloudy day.

The grumpy cloud allows himself some crying and foot stomping and “it’s not fair” tantrum-throwing before he settles back down and seems to wonder, “Should I try something more mainstream?” And it’s at this crisis of faith, the stork returns, armed with hardware, ready to be the grumpy cloud’s go-to man. The agent that says: Yes, there is a market for your kind of crazy.

The grumpy cloud is so happy, he hugs the stork and presents him with an electric eel. We writers can’t change our true shades of gray. We are who we are. We just need to realize there is a market for baby alligators…and out there is a stork who is willing to go the distance to find the right home for our babies.

Having a bad writing day? Go watch Partly Cloudy. You’ll feel better.

What do you do to cheer yourself out of the writing doldrums of Doubt, Fear, and Loathing? What book or movie have you read or watched lately that has destroyed all your confidence in your ability to tell a story? Come do your grumpy clouding here. The stork is ready to listen.

My lil’ pirate has been potty training this week.  Not the easiest venture.  Sorta like threading a needle with a rope.  I blame my husband for my kid’s stubborn streak though I’m sure when he’s not getting pushed around later in life, I’ll be thankful and taking all the credit.  But now, said stubbornness is not conducive to potty training.

I’ll spare you the gory details but I was thinking yesterday about how potty training is like writing a novel.

First, at the start, I could only focus on how cool it would be for him to be potty trained.  I mean, no more dirty diapers (well, until my next kid is born in May).  But I’d get a break, a couple blissful months sans diapers.  Then he’ll be potty trained, well, forever.  This optimism is kind of like the beginning of a novel, when you focus on how cool it will have been to have written a novel.  An entire novel.  What an accomplishment.  And once it’s done, no one can take that experience away from you.  You’ll have done it.

But, as I’m in the middle of it, it’s not as glamorous as I’d hoped.  With potty training, there have been accidents, stumbling blocks.  My kid’s gotten frustrated; I’ve gotten frustrated.  There have been some clothes changes and fresh pairs of cute Thomas the Tank Engine underpants.   Just like the middle of my stories, when I run into all kinds of stops and starts, moments when I feel like it’ll never be done.

There have been shining moments too.  DS has managed to go on the potty the majority of the times during the day and every time you’d think he scaled Mt. Everest.  When he conquers an obstacle, his enthusiasm is unmatched.  I feel the same way when a chapter/passage/sentence feels just right.  Like I could do anything.  Like it’s all worth it.

I’m sure when we’re done potty training, we’ll both be thrilled with this step into the “big boy” world.  Just like when I finished my first novel.  The accomplishment filled my chest with pride. 

And, just like my son’ll keep looking for that next step of growth, so do I keep looking for my next step in growth as a writer.

What else do you think writing is like?  Any analogies to share?  Any past experiences that parallel your writing experience?  Any horror stories about potty training?  I could use a laugh….

I’m a plotter.  It’s not really a secret around here.  I’m one of those annoying folks who write a synopsis before I start writing my story.  After I get it done, I map out all the scenes in the story and only when done do I feel like I’m prepared to write my story.  I spend two weeks, maybe three, devoted to this whole process.  Then I start writing. 

Usually my storyline comes from character ideas.  I got the idea for my last story from my heroine, a prophet, and the rest of the storyline exploded from there. 

But in both of my last manuscripts, I’ve gotten to the middle and had to reevaluate my character motivations.  I realized that I do this because I don’t “know” my characters as well in the beginning of the story so I have to go back through and revise after I know them better.

I admit this is inefficient.  I revised my last manuscript at the middle and then revised it again at the end.  Twice.  I’m still not certain I’ve expressed what I want to express adequately. 

Now, as I begin again, I’m reevaluating my method.  Oh, relax folks.  Never fear.  I’m not going to chuck my plotting ways.  I’m not ready to go all pantser on you guys.  (I suspect I would make everyone—including myself—crazy). 

But there might be something to be said for the pantsers who claim to focus on characters first and then let the story evolve naturally.  Don’t get me wrong.  I couldn’t just start writing with only an inkling of their personalities.  But I do think I need to do more character development before I start this time.  And not just for my hero and heroine, but for all the major characters.  Then I can devise the plot after I know the people involved.

In an effort to attempt this feat, I’ve purposely ignored any attempts my brain has made to latch onto a plot direction.  I jotted down disjointed ideas, but I’m going to wait until I’ve got the characters to do all that stuff.

Is this coming naturally?  No.  For something that should be organic (i.e., defining the characters in my head, answer their “whys” and “what fors”), it’s not easy.  But when I let them unfold on the page by themselves and try to fit themselves into a storyline, I cause myself some serious heart aches in the middle and the end.  So I’m hacking away at it.  I’m questioning every little nuance about them that comes to my mind. 

Are they annoyed with me?  Yes.  Am I annoyed with me?  Absolutely.  But I hope that it works better for the story in the end.

So tell me…  What kind of character development things did you do to get to know your characters?  Do they spring full formed to your mind or do you take a while to “learn” about them?  Which comes easier—the characters or the plot? 

Maybe I’m feeling nostalgic.  Maybe I’m frustrated I still haven’t seen GI Joe yet.  Or maybe I just couldn’t think of any new and fresh real life hotties.  Whatever the reason, I figured I could hit up some old standbys:  the hotties my pre-adolescent heart swooned over.  I had an older brother and he loved these guys.  I don’t think I ever minded watching, though.  My first crush?  Duke from GI Joe, followed closely by Lion-O from the Thundercats.  And, well, He-man?  I mean, check out those muscles.  What’s not to love?

In later years, I developed a crush on Fred Savage and then another on Zach Morris before finally devoting myself to the boys in my school.  Honestly, my schoolmates weren’t quite as hunky as these fellows or as adorable as Fred Savage or Zach Morris.  They didn’t turn out that bad, though, so maybe there was some potential I missed. 

So who made your adolescent (or pre-adolescent) heart flutter?