Whaddaya Mean It's Not Sunday?

Yesterday was a necessary goof-off day. Why? I needed to refill my creativity well.

Even better FreeForm was on a roll with my favorite Disney/Pixar movies! Ratatouille, Coco, Moana, and Lilo and Stitch. All of them juggle the question of finding your own way while dealing with family expectations. A theme that shows up a lot in my own work.

I'm still a little nervous about going to our local theater, and I probably won't until after we get back from celebrating Adorable Spawn's birth. I don't want to take any chances of carrying a potentially deadly disease to my newborn grandson.

As for today? I'd meant to get up with my alarm clock, but I was so tired, I turned in off, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

And slept another four hours. I didn't think I'd over exerted myself last week. Maybe it was my subconscious needing to process the new things I noticed in those movies yesterday.

Because you see, I always seem to notice new things in the media I consume each time I watch or read or listen. That's what I mean about refilling the well. Storytellers need to pay attention to the really good stories. Break them down. See what makes them tick.

And use those techniques to build our own worlds in such a way you cannot resist liking, or even loving, them.

Coronavirus Pandemic Day 208 - Why Am I Keeping Track?

 7.5+ million cases of the disease so far in the United States. 213+ thousand dead. Now, allegedly the president and first lady plus a good chunk of the White House staff have the disease.

I read an interesting article over the weekend concerning President Woodrow Wilson's handling of the Spanish flu pandemic. He followed a route of downplaying the virus similar to our current leadership. The result was he ended up with the flu as did many of his staff. In Wilson's case, the flu weakening his body may have led to the stroke that felled him a couple of months later.

From a more creative standpoint, watching the pandemic unfold has led me to changing the rough outline of the Soccer Moms of the Apocalypse. I rearranged the order of the series, and Penny (AKA Pestilence) will take center stage in the first book. Especially since she runs a coffee shop.

 

Damn. I really miss writing in the local coffee shops.

It's odd how this crisis has triggered new ideas and changed some old.

The Wee Hours of the Morning

Yesterday, I didn't wake up until four in the afternoon. My sleep schedule is a little off, but right now, it's not necessarily a bad thing.

I'm an empath. No, it's not like Deanna Troi on ST:TNG. Modern science is actual admitting we exist, but they call us "emotional sponges". And that's what we do--we soak up the emotions of people around us. Which can be bad or good depending on the situation.

In my case, the stronger the emotion the more powerful my reaction. Whenever a particular neighbor in Houston was trying quit smoking, I'd wake up with an intense craving for a cigarette. And I've never smoked in my life!

Right now, everyone's on edge about the damn virus, the stability of their jobs, money. So in addition to my own fears, I'm picking up everyone else's feeling in the damn apartment building because they are all stuck at home.

So how do I ease the static in the back of my brain? I wait until everyone else, including DH, goes to bed. There's a real peace that happens after one a.m. Everyone's asleep. Their conscious minds aren't emitting their emotions like quasars emitting massive amounts of radiation. My mind is alone with its thoughts for that portion of the night.

And I can step into my imaginary worlds and bring them to life.

There's something to be said about the peace of the witching hours, and I am at my most productive.

The Movie Mania That Wasn't and Other Assorted Thoughts

We went to see Black Panther last week. I started to write a review, but I want to go see it again. I think in my fangirl *SQUEE* I may have missed some pertinent things. Things that probably won't change my overall score of the movie, but I want to see how two different audiences react to it.

To be frank, I know my perspective of Black Panther is skewed by my whiteness, just as I know my perspective of Wonder Woman was skewed by my femaleness. I know my review of Wonder Woman would have been slightly different if I'd waited until I'd seen it for a second time in the theater.

And not for the worse either.

Both movies have made me more conscious of my own biases, especially how I went along with certain behaviors to get along. That's not good for any of us in the long run. There's something half-formed in my mind. Something that I think I'm trying to flesh out in the themes of the Justice series. But the thought needs to simmer a little more before I present it to the world.

As I think I've mentioned here, DH and I have started house hunting. Since we're having trouble finding something that meets our needs, we're leaning toward building.

The one house that would have worked for us, we were overbid on back in December. So I tracked down who owns the plans for that design. We met with their agent on Friday.

The builder's plans for that same subdivision have been delayed until August over getting the water and sewer lines laid in a timely manner. I think that will work out for us in the long run. It gives my time to get out my books (or at least set them up on pre-order) on the aggressive schedule I've set for myself for 2018. It also gives us time to save up money for the essentials you don't think about, like the washer and dryer, window treatments, shower curtains, etc.

For the most part, I'm on track with my schedule. I lost this weekend over prepping tax paperwork, but that's a necessary evil. I think I can make up the lost writing time next weekend.

I hope.

In the meantime, A Modicum of Truth had the best opening week of any of my books. I think I'm on the right track through the raspberry bushes.

Now, if I can get the Muse to stop throwing new shinys in my path for a bit, everything would be hunky-dory.

Are You Writing for Fame and Fortune Only?

My friend Jo sent this interesting tidbit to me during our conversation about how-to books on writing. As he said, if nothing else, watch the first five minutes. Robert McKee talks about what he sees as the two types of writers.

And say what you will about Mr. McKee, he definitely understands the mindsets of the two types.

Hey, I'll be the first to admit I make money from my stories and I'm not ashamed of that fact. But on the other hand, I don't write whatever the latest trend is either. Something to ponder over the weekend.

I QUIT!

No, not me.

But I have been hearing it from a lot of indies lately. So much so I've been avoiding quite a few of the usual social media sites I frequent. It's a bit sad people give up when they don't hit the lottery.

Or even worse they write books they hate. Or game the system only to piss off their readers.

So if I'm not blogging as much over the next couple of months, it's because I'm avoiding the Debbie Downers out there.

I finished the first draft of Ravaged last Monday, so I'm enjoying that high and charging ahead on the first draft of Sacrificed. I refuse to let other people's negativity get me down right now. The only question right now is how fast can I get this bitch done!

P.S. If you're one of the assholes who thinks writing fast is shit writing, you need to go away. NOW! Because the last three books of the Bloodlines series have been done in my head for nearly ten years. It's just a question of getting them down on paper.

Or in my case, a computer screen.

Songs I Listen To A Lot Lately...

I picked this video, not just because I'm on a "Weird" Al Yankovic kick lately, but because it illustrates my writing technique: take a classic structure and twist it's little head off.

Why Not Me?

Currently reading - Blood Price by Tanya Huff

Lee? Oh, Lee? You won my contest. I want you to get your prizes. I can't get your prizes to you if you don't e-mail me, sweetie.


I haven't said much about my writing lately because, well, . . .

It's pretty fucking depressing, that's why. Oh, I'm getting requests for fulls, but then. . .

It's like you're having sex with (insert your Ultimate Fantasy Person here), and all the sudden he/she climbs out of bed right as you're about to climax and says, "Sorry, you're not doing it for me." *groan*

And to top it off, several friends and acquaintances are getting their worlds rocked by their UFPs lately.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm happy for my friends and acquaintances. I know a lot of them have worked their asses off to get their UFP in bed.

But my green-eyed monster keeps trying to crawl from under the rock where she hides, and I have to beat her back with my laptop. There's a reason Envy is one of the seven deadly sins. She's not crawling out to eat my alleged enemies. She's planning to chew on me.

And it won't be pretty.

Does anyone have suggestions for dealing with their green-eyed monsters? (Besides chocolate.)

Subjectivity, Part 2 (Or Do I Write Like a Boy?)

Currently reading - Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter by Seth Grahame-Smith

What each gender finds amusing differs greatly. I'm not saying that men and women don't find the same things funny, but there are certains subjects that have definite gender splits. The Three Stoodges. Warner Bros. cartoons. The late columnist Erma Bombeck. Sex & the City.

So what do I do when the male CP's and beta readers find a scene hysterically funny and the female CP's and betas wonder why the hell I thought this scene was remotely amusing?

These things bothered me for a long time until DH pointed out with all gentleness, "Honey, have you noticed you write more like Jim Butcher than Sherrilyn Kenyon?"

I know he meant the comment at a compliment, I took it as a compliment since I LOOOVVVE the Dresden Files, but why did it leave me with an unsettled feeling? Because it made me wonder about my own identity. Am I like the lesbian in the joke who was so butch she wanted a gay relationship with a man? Have I done a complete 360 in my concept of gender?

Ironically, it was Jay Lake's call for recommendations for sf/f material for his pre-teen daughter that made me realize my early reading influences had shaped my writing. A majority of authors that I read, regardless of the author's gender, wrote about adventure. I wasn't interested in character sketches as much as fantastic voyages, buried treasure or riding a fire-breathing dragon.

So I decided to accept that this is how I write, gender be damned. Now to find an agent who loves a good adventure. . .