Ignore Everything and Read

(image from my Facebook Author page)

Ignore the failures, the regrets, the undone tasks, the ineptitudes, the stressful relationships, and sink into another world. For a little while. Until the courage to face it all arises. And definitely voice gratitude for the opportunity to be quiet and still delve into words and, thereby, find a bit of healing.

Currently (re)reading: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Currently reading: A Thousand Miles Up The Nile

The latter is a bit of research. I'm seriously toying with the idea of moving the setting of Blackbird from England to Egypt, and Amelia Edwards' account is the perfect resource to study and glean tidbits from.

Adventures in Writing: Faith and Good Endings

For Writers:

As I may have alluded to in an earlier post, I hadn't even completed the first draft of Blackbird before I realized the ending, as I had first envisioned it, wouldn't work. After a bit of agonizing and brainstorming, a potential correction presented itself:  an entirely new character.

Now, here I am, revising that very rough draft and inserting the "correction" in among the old content. But, my brain worries, is it actually a correction? Will this "fix," in fact, break the story worse? Provide unnecessary complication? Swell the word count needlessly?

All an unknown. Writing, I have discovered, is an act of faith. It's embarking upon a voyage with a map drawn in crayon and no sight of a shore before the prow. The new oar I have devised to employ may crack midway through the trip and leave the story stranded for a while. Or it may see the tale safely across the uncertain waters.

When you write, how do you feel about taking risk?

For Readers:

What ending, book or film, do you wish had been done differently? Why?

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Current Project: Blackbird
Genre: Victorian Drama
Theme: the wound

Undreamed Shores...

I've found a new motto.

Of course Will was the one to pen it. Though I've never read "The Winter's Tale." Shame on me. Still, this phrase touches on explorations through words, through travel, both of which top my list of to-dos.

Insatiable curiosity.

Have you a motto? Care to share it?

Twitter Blues

Feeling: disgruntled.

Word of the day: Solicit

\sə-ˈli-sət\
1. to ask for (something, such as money or help) from people, companies, etc.
2. to ask (a person or group) for money, help, etc.
3. to offer to have sex with (someone) in return for money

The Rant: So I decided to make an effort by actually tweeting more regularly. Not ads and self-promos, but more personal stuff. Stuff that proves I'm a person and not an automated marketing machine.

While embarking on that journey, I decided to visit my "followers" page and return the favor by following many of them back. A couple hours later, I check my email inbox and what do I see? Several new direct messages from other Tweeters. Cool, I think, people want to engage. *glower* Yeah. Right. Every single one of the messages were solicitations to join a website or a sells pitch for someone's brilliant book.

So I'm disgruntled because it seems that "follow" is a synonym for "solicit." Join me, buy me, promote me. You followed me, you must want me and my product. Here, have some. *open mouth, insert spoon* Ugh.

I have a paper hidden away with all my website log-in info on it (really, really hidden away). There are 68 lines of accounts. Just me, one human being with 68+ usernames/passwords/etc (and I'm sure in some people's books, that's relatively few, which only strengthens my argument). I'm not interested in adding to that list. More than likely I will decline any invitations to join more websites sent by tweet. And I have review policies, posted right here on my blog, so I will certainly decline any invitations to review someone's book sent by tweet.

It was all so impersonal and ... gross-feeling. Does any tweeter care about other tweeters as people? Or are all other tweeters means to an end? Why am I tweeting, for that matter? To gain an audience. There, I admitted it. It certainly isn't because I have nothing better to do with my time. No, it's to persuade one or two readers to take a chance on my books. One or two, out of the hundreds of followers (one day I hope to say "thousands"). The last thing I will do to them is shove solicitations down their throats the instant they click "follow." Does this make me 'better'? Certainly not. But I'll draw the line somewhere, thanks.

*parting shudder*

Fan of the Olympics and Janis Joplin

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The games are back again, which means the writing suffers. I just can't help it. Sports were never my thing. The only reason I like to watch football on Sunday afternoons is b/c it's the best thing ever to fall asleep to. An endless drone of pointless noise. Sorry, but that's the way it is. Now, the Olympics on the other hand? I'm glued. Everything else, or nearly, takes a backseat for two weeks every two years. Even writing. That's permissible, right?

Janis

Good thing is, despite the games, I finished the short spec-fic involving Janis Joplin yesterday. Lots of fun. A bit macabre. But lots of fun. Now I must choose between endings. I have two options, which I will keep to myself. And where to submit the bloody thing? But first things first, I must cut down the word count, as usual. My stories are always so full of character development that I have a difficult time keeping them brief. But I love the narrator. I can't decide if she's reliable or not, even now. Maybe that will keep readers guessing, too.

Anyway, back to the games. Then, when they conclude, it back to the Falcons saga for me. Don't even want to contemplate the workload waiting in that stack of paper...

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Recouped At Last!

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Well, at least it feels that way. Rewriting Falcons over 18 months wore my brain thin, I tell you. It felt numb and zombified after that project. My goal, during these months of rest, was to write several short stories and revise some old ones that have been lying around the house, but in that state, I couldn't force my brain to think of  a single new idea. Even sleep was dull. I barely dreamed at all, not dreams that stuck with me after waking up, which is really odd for me. I got to worrying, "Is this how it's going to be? Have I lost it? Has my imagination been wrung dry? Will I ever care to write again?" Really distressing stuff. But I waited. And waited. 

And here it is. At least for now. This week, my brain seems to have come alive again. Bizarre story dreams prove it. Several nights in a row, dreams that have characters, plots, intrigue, the whole bit, so I guess that means all is returning to normal. One dream was about Janis Joplin, and I'm converting it into a bizarre spec fic. After I type "the end" on that one, I do believe it will be time to drag out Falcons 2 and start looking it over. It's been lying on my writing room floor, collecting dust, and tapping an irritated foot. I had to keep telling it, "Not till July. Give me that long to rest, at least, please." So, here it is, the middle of July, and things are heating up again.

What makes me even more eager to get started on Falcons 2 are the sells on Falcons 1. I never expected the response both volumes have received. Both have made it into the Top 100 Epic Fantasy list, alongside George RR Martin, Stephen King, Brandon Sanderson, Steven Erikson, and Tolkien. Then there are the other self-pubbed authors, like Michael G. Manning, on that list. I feel like my twins are competing with the big boys now, and the feeling is surreal. A little unbelievable. But I'll take it and run, thanks.

In any case, here we go again ...

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Novel vs. Novella: A Question of Time

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So Blood of the Falcon has been out for a month or nearly and checking the Kindle sells daily has resulted in my overwhelming astonishment. The actual numbers are not the point; the point is that a novel so fat that it has to be broken into two volumes keeps selling steadily, when a skinny, convenient, fast read like Mists of Blackfen Bog stagnates at tiny numbers. In comparison, I've marketed Falcons far less than Mists and the novel's sells keep rising.

Now, I have discussed this question with a writing friend and we cannot come to a satisfying reason why, in our fast-paced culture in which people with shortening attention spans are expecting quick results, that short stories and novellas would be largely ignored while novels, that take up so much more time, energy and devotion to reach the end, would continue to sell like hot cakes. The best I can come up with is that readers who are following this trend are those bookworms who prefer long-term commitment to a character and a situation rather than a one-night stand with a briefer story. Any other theories out there?

From a writer's standpoint, then, considering all the numbers, is it more worth my own time and energy writing full-length novels rather than novellas? Novellas are hard to sell, few markets exist that accept them. Yet fewer publishers take chances on unknown novelists. So the results will most likely end up in a self-publishing venture.Which leads me back around to while novels sell better, I can have more novellas out on the market in far less time, but if few are buying them (aka reading them), why bother? As you can see, I'm torn. Any opinions or encouragement or personal experience to share?
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A Day Full of Blessings

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Seventy-nine degrees, rain. The first time the temperature has been below 100 since June. The oppression of heat breaks for the nonce. Yesterday, when the first gust front came through and the rain began, James and I meandered around outside and ate our first purple grapes from our own vines, then we started experimenting with our new distiller. It's a gorgeous hand-made copper contraption straight out of the Middle Ages and came all the way from Portugal. One might think we were going to try making our own liquor, but we have different plans. I'm not allowed to mention it by name yet.

All week, I took a break from the novel project and thoroughly enjoyed typing up the opening pages of a new project. I won't make too much of it, b/c I've started things like this before and not finished them. On the other hand, these characters and their situation are clicking better than any I've written for a long time, so I'm hopeful that I'll actually get to write "The End" on it one day. I usually hate writing rough drafts, but so far I've not felt bogged down by details or lack of direction. We'll see...

Point is, the blessings keep coming. Such prolonged happiness is a gift.

The only cloud has been my husband's grandfather. It's heartbreaking to see the patriarch so strong and able one day and an old man the next. It puts human frailty and mortality on the table for us all to examine. Hamlet scrutinized a skull. I've been watching a man come to terms with his age. The difference between men and babies being fussed over is that babies have yet to gain a sense of dignity that must be swallowed. A bitter draught.
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Random Happiness

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I just feel happy today, so I think I'll post random good stuff.

It's very encouraging when one's small success inspires others to take a step in the same direction. Once I posted on LegendFire that "A Mournful Rustling" had been accepted by Dead Robots' Society, another of our members hopped on board and readied a story to submit to them. Another mentioned doing the same. I hope she does. I hope submissions stay open so they both have time to revise and send their work in. It's my greatest joy to know that all the time and learning and painful decisions (and often biting my tongue) that go into administrating and moderating a writing community may help some folks achieve their dreams.

Renovations: inching forward. Experimentation with chemicals plus sandblasting, we hope, will finally remove white paint from natural stone. At least, we think it's paint. It may actually be some alien substance engineered to drive earthlings mad. It's war now. There's no turning back. We shall conquer!

Reading: On Guard by William Craig. Apologetics. Defending one's faith with reason. Yikes. Apparently it can be done. Chapter three was a wicked piece of brain work. Cosmological defense of the existence of God. Or an introduction to it. Some of the points I can grasp; others, not even close. The last pages require knowledge of subatomic particles, believe it or not. Well, I thought, if that is what's required for me to defend my faith, I'm doomed. On the other hand, the average Joe on the street who asks me, "How can you believe in an all-knowing, all-powerful invisible God who lets all these terrible things happen to us?" probably won't know the ins and outs of subatomic particles either to be able to argue that aspect with me. So I gave up trying to understand what the heck chapter three was about. I hope chapter four is more on my level. I doubt it, but we'll see.

Also reading some free material from Smashwords that I've downloaded onto the Kindle. Some of it is really worth reading. Some of it ... well, I really wish the authors had submitted the material to LegendFire for crits. They went to all the trouble of formatting manuscripts for publication, even perfected SPaG, but, well, the story I'm reading right now started out too late, with a hook like five pages in, instead of five sentences in, and I'm not sure I'll finish it or not. Shame that.

Novel project: Typing in the revisions made to another fat section of paper. I'm making the story stronger, I'm sure of it now. But all the small changes are adding up to make big ones farther down the road. Snowballs and avalanches!

Hmmm ... better stop now and go work on my floor ... or walls ... or ceiling ... or something.
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A New Pet Peeve

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Something is driving me bonkers lately, though I'm trying really hard to go with the flow and not let the ... issue ... get under my skin. So I'll vent about it here instead of sending notes to the people I would love to yell at.

I was taught that if you make a commitment to do something, you carry through. Come hell or high water, you get the job done. You communicate with the people you have committed to and let them know if there are unavoidable problems that are delaying progress. You don't leave them to freak out, wondering if you've fallen off the planet or high-tailed it for the far country because you just don't want to participate in the task any longer.

Can anyone say "irresponsible"? Don't people understand how little things like this reflect on one's character? How in the future people will be less likely to trust them with other activities and responsibilities? I do not understand this neglect. IF YOU VOLUNTEER FOR A PARTICULAR JOB (I can't stress that enough), doesn't it make sense to uphold your end? In the least, tell me why you can't finish the task on time, or not at all, so I can find someone to take up the slack! It's not difficult. It's just a small mouthful of pride one must swallow to do this. Take it with sugar. It will go down easier. I'll even provide the sugar!

Now, I've vented. On with prettier things, like springtime and stories and fluffy kitties begging to come into the house to be in my company. Well, the kitties just want food, but they lie well and they're cute, so I'll let them get away with it. Back to the novels!
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The Cusp of Spring

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Ah, it's the last day of February! Spring is just around the corner. In fact, it feels like it's already here, at least where I live. We've had thunderstorms, warm south winds, and twice I've had the chance to sunbathe. Yep, in February. Which means March will likely be cloudy and cold. Time seems to get confused on occasion. Or maybe the issue is humanity trying to create order by naming a set of days and then expecting those days to behave a certain way. And then we're scandalized when things happen differently than we say they should. That's Philosophy In Your Corner by Court Ellyn.

In honor of the cusp of spring, here are two timely masterpieces for your enjoyment:

An Orchard In Spring
Claude Monet, 1886


Springtime at Giverny
Claude Monet, 1880

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Changed It Again???

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Well, sorta. Just one little letter makes a difference. At least to me. So the penname was "Cort," now it's "Court." The former started looking strange to me. Inelegant, like "wart" or "fart" or "stork" or "dork." Which means I now have to change so many other things, like advertising and blog banners, website details, manuscript headers. All because of u.

Damn u

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