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Lately, I find myself a little more motivated to write in the journal than write on the novel. In an attempt to nip that habit in the bud, the journal becomes the carrot that I get to do after the day’s writing.

And, you know, I feel pretty good after the writing, so I don’t get the reluctance on my part. Right now, I feel great. I guess it’s like working out, how sometimes you don’t want to do it, but you’re glad you did after.

In spite of reflux, I have know finished chapter five (neener, neener, heartburn!). I also added a new godmother scene into chapter four. I’ve been from fairly lighthearted to very dark today.

Here’s where things get a little complicated. I’ve got chapter six outlined and rough drafted. Highlights of Chapter Six: undercover frost elves, an alliance of two flavors of godmother, and Manuel goes to see the hulder in the woods.

Chapter Seven gets complicated as it begins a good chunk of the expansion that has to go into this thing to make it bigger. I’m currently thinking of it as the young troll angst chapter. I hope the subconscious makes good gumbo. Overall, though, the percentage of story rewritten will go down, because of all the added scenes.

Well, statisticians, for you. First, scenes.

26 / 54 words. 48% done!

Now, word count.

25959 / 60000 words. 43% done!

Off to book group.

Catherine

Today and Tomorrow, Meredith Holmes visits Writer Tamago. I’m over at Heather Ingemar’s place. See you there!

It’s summer in Southeast Texas. At the best of times, this means heat–the kind that makes it difficult to walk barefoot outside, even on grass, that makes cicadas rattle in the trees and sends even the hardiest of dogs inside, away from the fences and towards the nice, cool kitchen floor. Right now, though, we’re in a drought (rumor has it that that will be relieved soon, but no one is sure if it will be a lasting relief or just a tease of better weather, cooler temperatures). In July, we usually don’t experience things like weeks of 100 degree or higher heat but this month (and last) has been exceptionally Hellish. I told myself it’d be the perfect opportunity to sit inside, to write, but with the heat came lack of inspiration. I have two manuscripts to send in, one I’m feeling strong about and another which I am holding off on sending until I can get another beta-reader to look over it. Perfect, I thought–the heat will keep BICHOK (butt in chair, hands on keys for the uninitiated…). I’m wrong. The heat seeps through the windows, through blinds and curtains, sunshiny rays sapping my creativity and inspiring only naps, as if I were a giant cat (who knows? I might be… I’ve never been tested).

Two very good reviews, one for Widow’s Walk and one for Unseelie have given me a shot in the arm and I’m re-editing Wild Hunt (the sequel to Unseelie ) and a super secret demon novel to submit asap, hopefully by the end of next week, but the summer is still draining. The ice cream trucks, which came in midday and early evening when I was a child, seems to only come between 8 and 9 pm now, avoiding the worst of the heat and taking advantage of the summer twilight that seems to stretch forever. I sit here at the computer and wonder why I never suffered from lack of inspiration when I was younger. The heat would lead me to run outside in my grandparents’ backyard, play baseball (my own rules, of course), try to climb trees, drink from the hose–never caring that it was 100 degrees or a drought. Is it growing up that takes away summer creativity and magic? Is it a lack of drive? Or is it maybe the heat this year is special, magical in its own way, making us rest and stay inside, keep from racing on the melting asphalt and laughing with the cicadas under the blazing sun? The summer is going by so quickly that maybe it is trying to make itself last a bit longer, keep autumn a distant dream and push away all ideas of cool, damp weather, of turning leaves and early darkness. Maybe we’re meant to cocoon inside, make the days last against the winter and wetness. Or maybe, just maybe, my creativity is sapped by the heat and there’s nothing magical to it at all, just blessed air conditioning and a body that can’t climb trees anymore.

I had this day mostly off today, and I’d planned to study Russian and then come home and write. Except that I got to spend the day with my little disease.

Because talking about medical stuff doesn’t interest many folks, and because I know people who know about my little disease, I’m going to hide the rest of this. For most people, aches and pains are no fun to discuss. But if you have GERD, or acid reflux disease, you might be interested to see if we have similar cycles.

Continue reading “My Little Disease”

It’s been a few sessions since I updated the actual stats on the troll story. I butchered one of the scenes of the story from its very first incarnation, and used what I could from it that still made sense. I integrated the first of the emotional conflicts that Grant and David, the Heierdahl brothers, will have over the situation. This should lead David down a troublesome road, and give Grant some room for growth as well.

Here’s the current word count:

22485 / 60000 words. 37% done!

Scenes?

23 / 54 words. 43% done!

I expect, though, that there will be many new scenes added to expand out the story.

And that’s it for tonight.

Catherine

I know, I promised no more spam, but bear with.

World Con-going writing peeps, this is for you. Apparently there was a SNAFU with writing workshop registration, and people are being asked to announce the troubleshooting instructions.

This has been an Anticipation 2009 announcement, brought to you by writers who care for your revision process.

Catherine

And this entry is the last of three that I wanted to get done today. I’ll try to be quieter tomorrow.

***

As I mentioned last night, I’ve been reflecting on the troll novel. Right now, I’m looking at the word count by the end of chapter 5 to be roughly 22K. At this point, the story is just getting started.

I think it would be possible for me to ramp up the action and description in what I first thought of as part 1 of the story to 60K, which is a respectable size, especially as I imagine this will be marketed as a YA book (the hero is around 16. It seems inevitable in today’s market that will happen).

As such, I think my plans have shifted. My current goal is still have the book finished before January, 2010, if not sooner. I will finish part one, give it another rewrite, and send THE WHOLE BOOK out to Team Rewrite for feedback.

While that’s happening, I’ll write the werewolf thing I have going on, and then, after integrating reader comments and one final pass, I will start circulating this puppy. I have an agent waiting for pages, so I’ll feel better when I send him some. I’m practicing patience because I want to send him good pages.

After I’ve polished and am circulating the werewolf thing, mama’s gonna settle down for some sewing. Because that muse hates me right now. 🙂

That’s where we’re at. I’ve been pounding away on an important scene for the last two days, and have the shape of it ready, if not the ornamentation. I should have chapter five done by the end of the week if all goes well.

That was mostly for me. Still, I thought you might be interested.

Catherine

Because Ambika was frightened of Vyasa when he visited her, and she closed her eyes, the son she gave birth to was blind. This is bad news in ancient Indian culture, because even though Dhrtarastra is the oldest of the children of Vyasa, he cannot rule because of his imperfection.

Therefore, the kingship goes to the second brother Pandu, whose name means pale, because his mother paled upon seeing Vyasa. No, really.

Pandu does something stupid in a hunting encounter, and is cursed to not lie with his wives and have children. Ergo, Pandu cannot have heirs to the throne and he is banished to the mountains with his two wives to the mountains. In spite of his imperfections Dhrtarastra becomes king. We’ll come back to Pandu and his wives next entry.

Because Dhrtarastra is king, he needs to marry. He chooses Gandhari. She finds out that her husband is blind, and in a strange but mythological maneuver, she decides she can’t be higher than her husband and binds her own eyes forever. Some Indian mythologists think this is the ultimate act of passive-aggression.

Pandu and his wives begin to have children (um…yes, that should be impossible, but wait for part 2), and Gandhari becomes jealous. Gandhari, you see, has been pregnant for a year, well before the first child of Pandu was born, and still her children will not come. Therefore, Gandhari does what any impatient mother would do: she has her maid hit her belly with a steel rod. She gives birth to an iron ball. Needless to say, this is disappointing.

However, Vyasa, wise old man that he is, tells the nurse made to break the ball into a hundred pieces, and put each piece in a vat of water. The pieces eventually turn into 100 brothers, know collectively as the Kauravas. Imagine the family reunions.

The most important of the 100 brothers for the story of the Mahabharata are the oldest two–Duryodhana the eldest, and Duhsasana. The Kauravas hate the Pandavas, who we will meet next time.

First up today, for a good cause!

That’s what Jim Hines does. He advocates, and he auctions arcs. And you know you want it.

***

I had the good fortune to receive a copy of the August, 2009 Realms of Fantasy, also known as the resurrection issue. Some of you may have noted the kerfluffle in the field when Realms was canceled. Internet outcry was so loud that Warren Lapine of Tir Na Nog Press jumped in to save the day.

The August issue is solid. Inside its covers, you’ll find reviews of games, movies, and books. There’s an article by SatyrPhil Brucato called Folkroots, which analyzes music and rhythm in the manner of an academic. Michael Hague is featured in a gallery overview authored by Karen Huber. Some of Hague’s fairy tale interpretations capture the essence of the tale while modernizing it. I find his photo of the Owl and the Pussycat one that keeps pulling me in.

A large component of Realms is devoted to fiction, and Realms continues to deliver memorable, technically brilliant stories. Tanith Lee’s Our Lady of Scarlet is a lyrical story that pulls us in with rhythmic words and poetic phrases, a macabre tale of death that conjures Poe. Ian Creasey frontlines the moral dilemma in Digging for Paradise, with an obvious and charismatic Machiavellian upfront, and a less-than-certain narrator unsure of his intentions and how to deal with them. The psychology is real. Bruce Holland Rogers Well and Truly Broken paints the woods in vibrant colors.

For me, the story that stands out in the collection is Healing Benjamin by Dennis Danvers. Danvers focuses on ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances. The narrator resurrects his cat Ben accidentally when he is a teenager. The story focuses on Ben’s longevity, and the narrator’s power in juxtaposition to his love for a woman. It is a personable story with pop culture references that flavor, but do not overwhelm, and the emotions between narrator, love interest, and cat are genuine. It was easy to fall into this story.

Overall, I would say that Realms of Fantasy has returned, and is as strong as ever. I look forward to future issues and excellent stories.

Catherine

The Drollerie Blog Tour returns! Last March, I had the pleasure of hosting Meredith Holmes . Next Monday, Meredith returns with a write up about summer. Look forward to it.

Meanwhile, I’ll skip on over to Heather Ingemar’s blog, if you want to find me.

***

On the horizon: I’ve received my free copy of Realms of Fantasy for August. Expect a review. Tomorrow.

AND

some announcements about the troll story. Are you surprised that it’s turning out to be longer than I supposed? That means some modification of plans for it. Stay tuned, beta readers. It actually means you may get the whole thing rather than just part one, because part one may be the whole thing.

Catherine

This is cross-posted from my personal journal, so I’m sorry some of you are getting this in stereo. I thought there would be some curious friends here as well…

FYI, new Blood is Thicker than Water is up!

***

Well, that was a fine weekend.

As many of you may know, I decided to have my own family reunion this weekend. NOT with my family, which many of you know I have discarded, but with my family of choice. There’s been a lot of getting ready and prepping for a big cookout which we had Saturday night, but it was so worth it.

Special shout outs to: Dan for working his fingers to the bone grilling veggies and meat; Diana who, along with Bryon, toted most of the stuff for the picnic around with me; and the English department office assistant Lorna, who lent me all sorts of stuff that made the cookout possible.

It was the best family reunion that I’ve ever been to, and that includes any put on by Bryon’s family. As you choose friends, sometimes those choices are made on commonality, which means we have things to talk about. I was so pleased to see so many interesting people I know talking to other interesting people I know. About 40 people attended.

People were super nice to me. Everyone seemed to know that giving up my biological family was a tough decision, and most folks were determined to see that I had a good time. I bounced around, and I was pretty shot yesterday, but I was in my element. I talked to everyone there, and tried to have some quality interaction.

People are also enthused about doing it again. At this point, I think the incarnation will be a cookout again, with the addition of a gift game (often done at family Christmas parties.) And, of course, if you’re in town, let me know. We’re hoping for some long lost relatives next year.

I’ll admit (emo alert!) I was a little sad when I was driving back at 10:30. It did make me think that this was what families should be like, and mine isn’t. All those people loved seeing each other and meeting each other. Their enjoyment of each other, and me, was palpable. I am very glad I traded my old family in for a new model, but I think it’s only natural to feel sad for them, and what they’re missing. Not just me, but the whole package.

Thank you all, chosen family, for celebrating with me, and appreciating me for who I am. Remember, no one parties like people in recovery!

Catherine