Sunday Update - Week 32

Ugh.  I'm almost not inclined to do an update this week, but that's only because something happened Friday that overshadows the good stuffs.  But I'm here.  So let's try putting the updates out there in a lump.  And if you don't want your day harshed, don't read the last big paragraph. 

First off, I rewrote 11428 words on Bloodflow last week.  That puts the manuscript at 44441 and about 40% written (based on the previous manuscript's page count - which includes stuff I know I have to chop, so isn't the most accurate indicator.) 

Also, I've been tweezing another manuscript to get it from 109K to under 100K to meet a specific set of guidelines.  Right now, I've shaved it down to 15402 by simply snipping out little unnecessary words and phrases without changing the overall makeup and voice of the book. Sure this is the slow way to cut words, but I really would rather not arbitrarily cut a whole scene without a damn good reason.  So slow and steady wins the race.  And I'll have a tighter book when I'm done.

I haven't made much progress in my research for the super sekrit idea.  (I don't remember Le Morte d'Arthur being this freakin' dry and boring when I read it years ago.)  On the upside, I don't need to do a whole lot of research to actually write the book.  It'll just be a richer and thicker broth the more I know about the foundation.  Know what I mean? 

Since I haven't been doing the research, I've had time for reading.  Yay!  Unfortunately, I started and discarded two books this week.  One because it started out as a light romance - where animals play a critical role (I love me some light romance with critters as secondary characters) - and then the hero who lives with his mom starts thinking about the heroine and runs up to his bedroom to... ummm... and the action is described in detail.  Umm, NO.  Yeah, yeah, normal part of life and all that, but I don't want to read about it in detail.  Ew.  It all felt very 8th grade.  The next book was so full of grammatical errors, but I tried to keep going, because I liked the premise. Then the story just sort of fell apart about a third of the way through.  Bummer.  It's all good, though, because I redeemed my faith in writing by diving into a novella by Monica McCarty called The Knight.  She's so awesome and her characters are so true, she makes me love historical romance (even when I don't really with most other HR authors.)

Harshing Ahead:
So anyway, I haven't said anything about the deer lately.  Well, we have this one who somehow hurt her back right foot back in late June/early July.  She's getting around okay, I guess.  Not great, but well enough to survive.  And she had a fawn.  Little Short Stop seemed to be doing okay, too, until recently when we noticed she was alone most of the time.  Then about a week ago, we noticed she was a little thin.  Everything went rapidly downhill from there.  She started sleeping up next to the house and she wasn't eating much when she went to the food pans.  Friday morning, she curled up in the corner of the house, but she still looked alert when I peeked out at her around 10am.  By 3pm, she wasn't even bothering to twitch away the gathering flies.  And then she was gone.  We laid her to rest in the woods.  We assume her mom stopped nursing her either because of her own injuries or because she recognized the fawn had something really wrong with her.  Anyway, it was really disappointing and has tainted my mood this weekend.  Then last night just before dusk, the mom was over there looking for ShortStop.  So sad.  And it made me a little irrationally angry at her for waiting over 24 hours to come looking for her fawn - but that's me trying to put human emotions and values on a deer where they don't belong. 
:endharsh:

So how was your week?  Anything good to talk about?  Tell me something good.

The Groove, The Path and a Hint of Disappointment

Okay, so yesterday I was really in the groove.  Sure, I woke up at 3am and ended up taking 3 short naps throughout the day, but I also wrote 2K words, did some writerly work on the query process, and read a bit more in Le Morte d'Arthur - taking notes for my super sekrit project.  It felt good.

Hubs and I have been talking about stuff - trying to figure out how to get ahead in our chosen endeavors.  We hashed some things out, which is what led to my renewed commitment to resolution #2 - take my work more seriously.  As well as leading to yesterday's groovy-ness.  It's time to walk the path and not just talk about it.  So that's what I'm going to do - hit both the writing and the business aspect of publication with renewed vigor.

Which led me to a hint of disappointment last night.  I had the opportunity to beta read a new book for an author I love (who's also a really awesome person), but I had to be honest with her about these commitments I've made to myself.  I mean, part of me wants to drop everything and just read her book.  Cuz like damn and whoa how awesome would that be??  But tanking on my goals the day after I make them and actually did what I said I was going to do would unravel everything.  On the upside, she said to get back to her when my schedule frees up - and I agreed because she really does deserve my full attention.  And as I was apologizing and admitting my regret, it occurred to me that if I had gotten off my ever-widening ass and worked last month, I would've had this rewrite knocked out by now and I would have the time I need to beta read.

Let that be a lesson to me - do your work when you have the time so you can grasp opportunity when it shows its handsome face. 

Yeah, pretty much what my mom told me years ago about my procrastinatory behavior.  Mom always was right.  Why I couldn't see it back then is beyond me.  ;o)

Clowns to the Left of Me, Jokers to the Right...

...and here I am, stuck in the middle*.  Or at least that's how I feel. 

Lemme back up a bit and esplain** some things.

Esplaining:
First off, I'm generally a nice person who would like everyone to just get along (and if they can't, expects them to at least fake it).  Second, I get really uncomfortable when people fight - physically, verbally or internetally (not a word, but you get my drift).  Third, this general discomfort brings on a huge case of my favorite defense mechanism: Escape / Avoidance.

Backing up:
Recently there have been several dust-ups and hullaballoos circulating the internet in reference to science fiction writers (who's too traditional in the gender stereotypes, who's hosting whatever conference, blahdy-blahdy-blah).  I don't really give two hoots.  I don't care about the sides.  I don't care about the issues.  I just like to read books.  I just like to write books.  I don't really want to know who pissed in whose Wheaties or who made who cry or who's an ass and who's a whiner.  I just want to open the pages of a story and get lost inside.

As a writer, I really don't want to know or get involved.  Just typing this could get my agent-hunting ass in trouble.

But I'm actually writing this as a reader. 

As a reader, I want all the people involved on both sides of these things that you're making me really really not want to buy your books.  And since two of my favorite authors are on opposite sides of most of these things, you're really bumming me out. 

When I open your books, I want to get lost in the wonderful stories you invent.  Now, instead of getting lost, I have a running refrain in the back of my head that so and so is acting like a jerk and the other so and so is acting like a baby.  And the memories of all the wonderful things they've said about each other come bubbling up, RUINING my reading experience.

Which, if I remember correctly - you know, as the writer part of me - is exactly the opposite of what you're supposed to be going for. 

Maybe most readers aren't privy to this crap because they aren't also writers.  Maybe it's only a small percent of the populous who feel the same way.  Hell, maybe it's just me.  But for my sake, and the sake of others like me, knock it off.  Play nice.  Cuz right now, I feel like I'm in the middle of a custody battle and instead of choosing one side or the other, I'm saying "I don't want to be with either of you".

Which kinda sucks since you both having books coming out that I really would've like to read. 

And no, I'm not calling either of these people Jokers or Clowns... but if the song fits, play it.

*For those of you who don't get the reference, the post's title is from a 1972 song called "Stuck in the Middle".

** Channeling Inigo Montoya for a moment there.

My Baker's Dozen Submission

A friend of mine told me in a private email that I was allowed 24 hours to wallow over my not making it into the Baker's Dozen, so I did.  Now that the proscribed hours are up, it's back to life.  And with a return to reality comes showing what I sent that didn't quite make the cut.

Here's how it would've looked if it made it onto the site:

Title: Djinnocide
Genre: Urban Fantasy

Jo Mayweather vowed years ago to free her fellow genies from those three little wishes that enslave them, but after a murderous being starts tormenting and killing her brethren, she learns there are worse things for an unlucky djinn to face—like an ungrantable wish.

No one ever asked me if I wanted to be a genie. I never even thought such a thing was possible. I was a modern woman living in the Roaring Twenties. Against my mother’s wishes, I wore my hair and my skirts short. I drank at speakeasies. I danced with gangsters. Hell, I even smoked for petesakes. After surviving for almost two whole decades, I had certainly aged too far to believe in fairy stories anymore.

My father, Reggie, he was the dreamer in the family. He was the one always looking for the next big thing and if he could steal it? Well, even better. Me, I spent years looking for the next big party. In fact, I’d been prepping for my own birthday extravaganza when the package arrived. The shipping label said ‘Constantinople’, but whether my thief of a dad could still be found there was anyone’s guess. Odds were he’d moved to the next port of call and his next score. At least he’d bothered to think enough of me to send a gift. After all, it’s not every day a gal turns eighteen.

“Marriageable age,” my mother mumbled at me that morning in lieu of a more sentimental greeting. She’d meant ‘well past the age of finding a husband’ if her previous birthday greetings were any indication. She wanted me married and out of the house before I could graduate high school.

The first paragraph is the logline and the next three represent the first 250 or so words of the book (less because I didn't want to stop mid-paragraph).  

If you're going to comment on the quality of the above, please remember 'If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all'.  I'm willing to put my work out there on MSFV for public shredding, but I don't need to get kicked in my own house.  Besides, mean comments don't make it past my internal nastiness filter to post to the blog.  So there.  =op

No Donuts for Me

I didn't get a confirmation letter yesterday and the announcement just posted that all letters have been sent, so it's official...

I didn't make it into the final phase of The Baker's Dozen contest over at Miss Snark's First Victim.  So, no donuts for me.

Ms. Squirrel best illustrates my feelings over this:

A little grumpy is allowed, right?  Not too grumpy, though.  I really only had a 19% chance.

And, since I did tell a few people I'd post my entry if I didn't make it, look for that tomorrow.  K?

ETA:  In the end, I decided the only person responsible for my own donut acquisition is me.  So I went and got a half dozen.  Mmmmm, donuts.