On Dreams and Timing

I have young kids who are, as young kids tend to be, very needy. I say this in the most loving, happiest kind of way. But they are. I know lots of writers (in fact, most of the writers I know) are parents and they find ways to balance work and parenting. I recognize the amount of work that takes. I hit a place last year where I just couldn't balance and be the mom I needed to be. So I stepped back from my writing, which is thankfully still at "hobby" levels, and focused on the kids. There were school changes that needed to happen and extra reassurances that both kids needed and all sorts of advocating for them that complicated things. And I'm spoiled. I didn't quit a day job to write. I am fortunate enough to stay home and I felt guilty every time I said "Okay kids, but Mommy has to write now..." Especially when writing turned into researching which turned into procrastinating.

So why am I back? It's only been a year, it's not like my kids are all grown up and suddenly no longer need me. Well, I'm 'back' because I miss writing. It's a part of myself that I just put on hold. I didn't cut it out surgically and throw it away. I'm back because I feel like we've hit an equilibrium with the kids right now, and we have a good routine, and I can become better about my time management so I can say "This is writing time, and this is Kids Time, and that's the way it is." And I'm back because my daughter said to me "Mommy, I can help with my brother now. I'm bigger. You should write another book." She's right.

We've been talking a lot lately about what she wants to be when she grows up. She's incredibly smart, and I'm not just saying that because I'm her mom. Sometimes she says she wants to be a stay at home mom like me, and I struggle to find a way to tell her that I want MORE for her, without devaluing what I do. Like most moms, I have simple dreams for her. I want her to become a doctor-scientist-astronaut who also cures cancer. Nothing too demanding. I tell her that she can't control other people, and maybe it'll be a while before she has kids. Having children is wonderful, but it was never my end-goal in life. It was more of a bullet point along the way. I try to explain that your children only need you full-time for a few years, and that those years fly by, and then you have to be happy with who you are both before and after children if you want to be truly happy. These are really big concepts for an almost 8-year old.

Instead of telling her all these things, I've decided I'll continue to show her. I have lots of dreams. Some are really big and some are really small and some are completely out of my control. I dream my kids will grow up happy and healthy. I dream of writing a book that I'm not afraid to show the world. I dream of traveling west with my husband and camping somewhere we can really see the stars. I dream of someday going to Comic Con with my HS BFF dressed as Lursa and B'Etor from Star Trek TNG (mostly for the cleavage and the chance to scowl constantly.)

I'm back so I can show my kids my dreams.

(Well, except the ComicCon one.) (Oh, who am I kidding? I'll just dress them as non-redshirt Starfleet officers.)

On Procrastination and Mommy Issues

I had the extreme good fortune to attend the SCBWI LA conference back in August, and it was awesome. I listened to a ton of amazing and inspirational panels from authors who, to my shock, didn't point at me and kick me out for not being a 'real author'. Now, I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I can't help it. Because even though I've written a book (and a half), it doesn't feel like I'm committed to it in the way I should be. I've been *gulp* hiding from my book.

Libba Bray gave one of the funniest talks I've ever heard. She described that point in your revision process where you contemplate faking your own death and running off to hide somewhere, because THAT would be easier than fixing your book. The moral of her talk was that, one, you'll make it through, and two, often your book isn't 'right' because you don't want to face something hard and personal. It's those hard and personal things that make the book amazing.

I, of course, nodded and laughed and went on my way because, honestly, there is nothing 'hard' and 'personal' about my book. Come on, aliens bent on (hilarious, hopefully) world destruction? Not exactly a deep insight into my soul. It's more a deep insight into my love of science fiction and campy goodness. So I continued to procrastinate and avoid my book and blissfully ignored all of Libba's and everyone else's good advice to look harder.

And then, of course, it hit me. I realized WHY I was avoiding my book. It's because I need to fix a character, and not just any character, but a very important one. The driving force behind the entire plot line, Sef's mother, is so one-dimensional it's laughable. And I didn't want to deal with her because *insert ironic laugh here* I DON'T WANT TO DEAL WITH A WOMAN WHO WOULD ABANDON HER CHILD. I don't LIKE Eve.

Now, thankfully, I don't have Mommy Issues. My mother is an incredibly loving, supportive woman who was always there for me (and still is today.) But I am a mother. And I realized that no matter what excuses I gave Eve for leaving (and she has very good ones), I couldn't forgive her. I can't separate my mama-bear instinct for my daughter from my character. And there you go. Damn her, Libba was right.

I was hiding from the HARD job of understanding Eve, even empathizing with her. I know I wrote the story, and I could always CHANGE the way things are. I could make her more sympathetic or her actions seem less Machiavellian. But that won't serve the story. My job is to make you, the reader, understand why she made the choices she did. So, starting tomorrow (yes, I set a deadline for myself), I'm going to go back into my story. It's going to be hard, and I may cry and curse and probably direct a lot of that at Ms. Bray. But it'll be worth it. The fear is tinged with excitement. And THAT feeling is why I write.

Writers Write, But What?

I read a book several years ago that I hated. It was really long, the characters were mostly unlikable, and it didn't have an ending. Not "didn't have the ending I wanted" but actually didn't have an ending. Instead it just stopped. It was as if the author said "So, I've gotten you invested in these people, but I'm kinda bored now so that's it." Of course, the author did it on purpose, not because he was bored (I hope), but because he wanted to write a book that made a statement, even if it was a risk. It worked. I have read hundreds of books, most of which were very entertaining and had completely satisfying endings. I don't remember most of them. But I remember this book.

As a writer, I keep coming back to that. What type of book do I want to write? Do I want to make a statement and be remembered? Do I want to be fun but forgettable? The answer is "no" to both. I am not a statement writer, and if I ever have a statement to make it's usually sarcastic. I have stories to tell, and they are fun and quirky and not epic in the least. Heck, my motto is "Don't be like Dickens" because I can't stand his style. It's like I'm begging to be forgotten.

But those aren't the only stories. There are stories out there that compel, that make you think, that make you laugh, and make their statements quietly. Those are the stories I want to tell. The novel I'm revising may be one of those, or it may be a lesson in writing to prepare me for the next one. I don't know yet, and I can't know at this stage. I am afraid that I'll be one of the forgettable ones, but not too afraid to try anyway.

I've been pondering if I'm really a writer at all, fueled by that fear. I wrote a book. I could rest on that accomplishment, shove it in a drawer, and move on to a new 'hobby'. Every time I consider that, though, I feel an immense sadness. When I'm 90 I won't look back and say "oh, my house was super clean and I was a great digiscrapper!" I'll look back and say "why didn't I ever send out a query letter for that novel? Why did I ignore all those other characters and stories that came into my mind?"  There's another answer. I am a writer. I'll write.

And I promise that even when I take risks and make statements, you'll always get an actual ending. So, what stories stick with you? What stories do you have to tell? Will you always give me an ending? I certainly hope so, but if you don't, that's okay. It's your book. *grins*

My Husband Gives the Best Pep Talks

A few weekends ago I had a really productive weekend, writing-wise. (I shouldn't even have to clarify that. Nothing else productive ever gets done by me anymore. It's like I only think in terms of feeding my family and writing.) Anyway, I was riding my little writing-high and then an amazing writer friend (you know who you are) sent me a scene to read. And it was a great scene. She nailed it. When I was done gushing to her about how awesome it was, reality struck me. My scenes suck. They didn't have the finesse, the elegance, or even the cool words that hers did. I was filled with WOE. (You may have noticed that writers tend to be over-dramatic.)

A while later, I was moping rummaging around in the kitchen when my husband walks up. He sees me standing there, sour look on my face and bottle of coconut rum in my hand (what? I'm over 21) and asks what's wrong.

Me: My book sucks.
Him: But you were so excited earlier! You had such a good weekend! *pauses* You were reading someone else's work, weren't you?
Me: No! Okay, maybe. Yes. And mine sucks.
Him: No it doesn't! You can't judge your book so harshly. It's your first one, and it's your first DRAFT of your first one. Besides, I've read your work. It's good!
Me: No, it isn't. It's amateurish and choppy and just... ugh.
Him: *takes rum from me* No, your work is very good. I've read the first part of your book, remember? It flows really well! I'd tell you if it wasn't any good.
Me: *disbelieving stare* Uh-huh. You sleep in the same bed as me.
Him: *gets his "I'm very serious" look on his face* Of course I'd tell you the truth! If it was shit, I wouldn't let you submit it anywhere! That'd just be embarrasing!
Me: *pauses before bursting into tears and laughter* I love you.
Him: Now stop pouting and have a drink. *pours the rum*

THAT, my friends, is why you get married to someone like my husband. Because they'll tell you truth. And make you a drink. At the same time.

Falling in Love (With A WIP)

Okay, so I've been sick. Like, feverish-can't-get-out-of-bed-call-in-reinforcements-SICK. After spending all day in bed yesterday, though, I had to sit upright today. And while I was sitting upright, playing stupid FB games and thinking about napping, my brain started to do that irritating thing that Writer's Brains do where it fires off convos between characters. And once it starts, it generally doesn't SHUT UP until you write them down.

So, in the interest of getting better (and getting to take a nap), I did. And the most AMAZING thing happened: It works. I suddenly understood one of my characters so much better. And after all this time writing, plugging along happily and thinking "Wow, this all is clicking SO WELL," it finally, really, TRULY clicked. I GET it. It WORKS. And I'm in LOVE with my WIP. Big pink fluffy hearts of love. (and doom, because part of what I love is this new aspect of DOOMINESS I'm working in.) So, if you'll excuse me, my WIP and I will be skipping through flower-filled meadows and taking long walks on the beach. And then maybe we'll take a nap.

SRS BZNS & Belief

I have a confession to make: I don't take a lot of things seriously.

As a stay-at-home-mom, this works in my favor. It's much easier to relate to a 5 and a 2 year old that way. Even in my adult-life, I take time to understand the gravity of a situation just so I know how to mock it. So, when I went to the Decatur Book Festival two weekends ago (read about it here!) I was totally psyched for the fun. What could be better than books, people who WRITE books, and people who READ books all in one place? (Answer? Nothing.)

I was not, however, prepared to be hit in the face with a desire to be *gulp* serious about writing books as a business. (See what I did there? *snort*) I've been writing for a while now, but I try not to think about the whole 'what happens next' part. I mean, sure, I know that I'm writing an amazingly incredible story that you all will be just IN LOVE WITH the moment it's published. Some part of me has kinda sat back and said "And if you never finish, it's no big deal. You're just doing this for you." See that? I was giving myself an out. I wasn't SERIOUS about it.

But then I met real writers and saw how much they LOVED it. And I thought about how much I loved it. And about how much I wanted to be ONE of them. Other people in my life could see this desire even more clearly than I could. Cheryl (one of my very best friends and prereaders/cheerleaders) gave me the 2011 Guide To Literary Agents for my birthday because she believes I'll really do it. My husband wrote, in my birthday card, how proud he is of me and how he truly believes I'll accomplish my goal of being published. If they believe in me, shouldn't I actually believe in myself?

So, I'm headed to the Auburn Writer's Conference next month. It's about time I start taking this whole 'writing' thing seriously. I even ordered business cards:

Okay, so there's a limit to the amount of serious I can handle. *wink*

Writing Inspiration

You know how certain songs remind you of the place you were when you heard them? Or smells remind you of what you were doing when you were eating that food? I get those flashes with writing. I'll be doing something normal (you know, because writing isn't normal) and something will strike me and my fingers will just itch to get to a keyboard. Right now I'm sitting here trying to get into my writing mindset and I thought I'd list out some of my writing cues.

Music
Music is HUGE for me. I especially love story songs. The following always make me want to write a story about what's going on, or at least to continue the mood. Some of my current favs are:
1. The Genius Next Door - Regina Spektor
2. Yankee Bayonet - The Decemberists
3. Fifteen - Taylor Swift
4. Hideaway - The Weepies

Music Playlist at MixPod.com

My Kids
This seems counter-intuitive, since my kids are usually distracting me from writing, but childhood really is magical. Sometimes my daughter will look at me from the corner of her eye, nose crinkled with mischief, blue eyes sparkling, and it will just take my breath away. Or my son, with his dimples and curls, will say something and my heart will literally ache with love. Hopefully someday you will read my work and will see that I pretty much always will have a curly redhead and a bossy MC. Now you know where I'm getting it from. *winks*

Odd People
Do you ever notice someone when you're out and make up a history for them?  Maybe it's the really old lady with too much makeup, or a young woman who's eyes are just TOO far apart to be normal. I'm intrigued by non-conventional beauty. Perfect symmetry and Barbie-doll looks are just boring. But the ridiculously mismatched couple with more than a foot and half height difference? Oh, I just want to run home and write a story about them.

Other Writers
I love seeing how other writers work. What sort of environment do they need? How are they distracting themselves researching? What sort of music are they listening to? For example, my friend Heather set an epic word count goal a few weeks ago and tweeted this picture as part of her prep. Now I feel the need to have exactly this environment:

Except maybe I'd add wine.

So, what inspires you?

Weekend of AWESOME: Update!

This is just quick little note because I really want to squee with the universe. My alone-weekend was an amazing success. See that little WIP #1 over there in the sidebar? *points to sidebar* I was able to write almost 10,000 words this weekend toward it's completion. Now, sure they're not all fab, and they're not all going to stay, but I just couldn't stop writing.

When my husband and kids came home he asked how my weekend was. As I babbled on and on about the wikisearches I did and the plot that I outlined, he threw in a casual: "I thought for sure you were going to see that vampire movie." My response? "What vampire movie?"

What. Vampire. Movie.

I still haven't seen Eclipse. I have an entire kid-free weekend, the perfect time to go by myself to the theater, buy a large popcorn, and veg out. It didn't even occur to me. This manuscript made me forget about Twilight.

This is epic. And Awesome.

Earning That Book Dedication

My husband is an amazing guy. He's a great father, an excellent provider, and very patient with my many faults in the housewife department. (No, don't worry, this isn't turning into some bad 1950's-era sitcom. He's not perfect, he's just perfect at dealing with me and my imperfections.) The biggest problem we have, actually, is that he wants to spend too much time with me. (I know, such a shame, right?) *winks*

He works a lot, and he works very long and irregular hours. So when he is home, he wants to be spending time with the kids and I. Now, obviously, I enjoy spending time with him. We are married. But sometimes I want this crazy thing called "alone time." I want to be able to go off on my own and sit and write and not feel like I'm ignoring my family. But somehow I always end up sucked into watching whatever he is watching on TV, or discussing some inane detail of our day, or doing whatever else it is that married people do when they're living their lives together.

So, a few days ago, I teased him that if I EVER finished a book, he wasn't going to be in the "thank you" page. In fact, I told him I'd dedicate the book to my ability to write IN SPITE of him. (I may have thrown in some very detailed descriptions of the many ways in which he distracts me. Which, of course, distracted us both from my joking tirade. Hey, I said we're married. We're not dead.)

And then, yesterday, he gave me the greatest present ever: he took the kids to his parents for the weekend. He has no expectations of me. He doesn't want to come home to an uber-clean house or any of the other things that I normally feel guiltily compelled to take care of when I have free time. His instructions were simple: "Eat well, sleep, and write."

And that's exactly what I've been doing. Since he left I've written about 4,000 words, have plotted out probably 3/4 of this book, and have napped. Twice. He has more than earned his book dedication.

He's also earned the right to distract me when he gets home. I'm looking forward to it.

Plot Bunnies In Space

I've had this nagging little plot bunny in the back of my mind for a while. It's spunky, and may have a spaceship and a hologram for a sidekick. And it won't. shut. up. So a few days ago, finally, I opened a fresh document and figured I'd get it down so I could move on. But as I typed, I found I didn't want to move on. It didn't just flow, it poured out of me. I was so excited that I even forced my HUSBAND to read a scene. And he's NOT a YA reader.

But still, I felt guilty. Wasn't I cheating on my WIP with this bright, shiny, new idea? The one that I just figured out the ending for? Shouldn't I continue with the 3/4 written work since, you know, it's THREE QUARTERS DONE? Then I remembered something the very wise (and possibly gifted with some sort of black magic) Heather told me.

When I decided to pull my fanfiction (yes, you who are new here, I wrote fanfiction) and focus on original writing, I was terrified but thrilled. Heather listened to me freak out, then talked me down and then said something like: "You could prove me wrong, but I bet you get two-thirds of the way done with your rewrite and then start something new. These things just work that way."

At the time, I couldn't imagine putting all the work into that much of a manuscript to just set it aside. I may have laughed. A few days ago I told her that she was right. And that I was really, really happy about it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I left a heroine in distress. With some aliens. #awesome

A Pen and Paper Storm

I've never considered myself a pen-and-paper writer. I find ink much more intimidating than a blank Word document. It could be because "delete" is much easier than scratching out pen marks. Or it could be a type of rebellion against the years of school and note-taking that led me into adulthood. Somewhere in my mind, lined paper equals preparing for exams and lectures that bear no importance to my daily life.

To fight this fear, I keep buying cute notebooks to throw in my purse so that I'm ready when inspiration strikes. Inspiration is usually outweighed by the gravity of WRITING IN INK and then staring at my own scribbles. This is why I bought a netbook. It's a cute little red HP number. It's not fast, or flashy, but it works. With it and Dropbox, I have my WIP at my disposal just about anywhere.

This perfect system was tested a week ago. My husband and I went to Eastern Europe on vacation without kids. Visions of sitting in a cafe, typing away by the Danube, gave way to the reality of a fun but packed vacation. We had a great time. We saw life from a different perspective. We did not have ANY down-time that didn't involve a train or a plane. And I discovered something about myself: I can't write on a train or a plane.

I dutifully took out my tiny computer, opened my document, and stared. And stared some more. And finally opened Bejeweled Blitz and gave up. The problem with the Word doc is that it's perfect for when I'm ready to WRITE but not for when I need to THINK. Sometimes I don't even realize which stage I'm at until I sit down to try. I finally get why the blinking cursor is so scary. Fortunately, I came with a backup notebook. It's small, and cute, and the only way it could be less scary would be if it was pink. It doesn't say, "Write your novel here!" Instead it says, "Jot down ideas! C'mon! No pressure! You know you want to!"

Which is exactly what I did.

On a train from Prague to Budapest, surrounded by loud Europeans and field after field of sunflowers outside my window, I brainstormed. With a pen, paper, and a cute little notebook. By the time we'd arrived, I'd figured out how my WIP was going to end.

Don't tell my husband, but it may be my favorite part of the trip.