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Author Archives: Cathy
A Little Pre-Holiday Excitement
As if getting ready for the holidays isn’t stressful enough, yesterday we went through a bit of pre-holiday excitement. Not of the fun and good kind, unfortunately.
First, DH and I made arrangements for a trip to The Big City late next month. We have to schedule carefully because in the winter the ferry only runs every other week. And it leaves late Friday night and returns Monday. And takes 12 hours each way. I know. Don’t get me started. Yes, there is air service, but we have some big items to purchase and need to use our truck to get them, hence the need to ferry. We also had to make an appointment for Dear Daughter # 2 in The City. I called that office. Not a problem. Can get you in when you need to. Yay! All works out. For about five minutes.
DH calls me back to say he’d misread the ferry schedule. It returns much earlier in the day so the appointment for DD#2 needs to be moved. Oh, and the shipping folks who have the kitchen cupboards we ordered in October have been trying to call us forever to make sure we can pay the freight charges. Have they called? Don’t you think I’d TELL you they’d called if they’d called? OK, he’ll take care of that, and does.
So I call the office to rearrange the appointment for DD#2. No problem moving the appointment later in the week, but to get her there we have to send her on a flight from here to The Big City as an unaccompanied minor where DH will meet her (he’ll be staying in The Big City for a week of meetings while the kids and I return on the ferry with our laden truck) and take her to her appointment. Now, I know you’re all freaking out about sending a little kid on a plane alone but (a) it’s only a 45 minute flight, no stops, so it’s not like she can get lost, (b) if I were to accompany her it would cost another $400 because I’d also have to take DD#1 and sorry, but that’s expensive, and (c) DD#2 is sooooooooo excited about going on an airplane alone, something her big sister has NEVER done. You have to throw a kid a bone sometimes, right? She and DH will return together that evening.
Whew!
But wait! There’s more! While I’m on the phone with DH for like the eightieth time that morning (yes, all of this went down before noon), I discover the hamster has escaped. GAH!!!!! And it was MY fault. I’d neglected to secure his cage door the night before. How he managed to drop three feet and get past two cats and two dogs, I’ll never know. He was in the laundry room, under the dryer. How did I discover this? One of the cats was constantly in there all morning and I kept tripping over her. Duh! So now I have to move appliances. When I scoot the dryer, the thin metal vent tube tears. Dang! Now the hamster has access to the vent that leads to the outside. Where it’s about 20 degrees and snowing. @$%&@!!!! I call DH. He suggests checking under the house to be sure the hamster hasn’t gotten into the tube and out the flappy vent thing. &%%*$#^&$%#!!!!!!! Did I want him to come home to do it? No, I can unscrew the panel to access under the house, crawl around under there to the tube and see if I’m going to have some horrible conversation with the kids when they get home. I hate going under the house, but I can’t afford to wait for him to get home, as the hamster may be gone for good. And crawling around under a filthy, dark house is a good way to remind me to secure the cage in the future. If we have a hamster to secure in the future. Oy vey.
When I go under the house, flashlight in hand, there’s no break in the tube (yay!), but no telltale weight of a hamster either. Where is he? I hadn’t seen him under the dryer or washing machine or any place else. !#%$#!!!!
Back to the laundry room, where I have to climb over the washer and check inside the open back of the dryer. Did you know hamsters don’t come when you call them? But luckily, this one is very friendly, and had no problem coming out from the back of the dryer to me. Yay! I scooped him up and quickly determined I cannot vault a washing machine while holding a hamster. Hmmm. But, smart girl that I am, I’d brought an old pillowcase under the house with me in case I had to net him and had brought it into the laundry room. It was actually within reach. Yay! Did you know hamsters don’t like being in pillowcases? Well, he had no choice.
So the hamster is back in his cage. The travel/appointment schedule for next month is set. We jet out on Sunday for the holidays (also with an ungodly schedule, but that’s another story).
All is well and right in the world once again. For the moment.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, all! See you in ’08!!!
Posted in on my mind
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Revisions: Wait, What About This One?
I just sent the fourth version of the latest chapter in my WIP to one of my critique partners. That is, the fourth official version of the chapter. There are three earlier versions I saved as possible alternatives or had lines in them I liked but didn’t quite fit where they were and might be used later. There were many, many other versions where bits and pieces were added or deleted then brought in under one of the keepers. One only has so much capacity to save junk.
While rewriting and revising are part of the game, this particular chapter was a real PITA. No, it’s not the one I alluded to in my last post. That one comes later–though this one does have some sexual tension in it and a thwarted attempt at intimacy. But it wasn’t the sexual mechanics of the scene that kicked my butt and led to a week or so of musing and keyboard-to-head frustration.
Initially, the scene was one of simple seduction, of two characters finally getting a chance to act upon their mutual attraction. OK, not so simple, and I had some doubts about how the scene was working out, but that’s what crit partners are for. I’d always planned on the protagonist to stop things short of the actual sex act, thereby (I hoped) building the tension between the two leads until the big “first time together” scene later. But somewhere along the line, between the submission of the first draft to my crit partner and my re-reading of it, the protag’s motivation did a 180, going from reluctant snubber to pursuer. Crap. And the second character (yes, I’m intentionally being dodgy with information about them) did a 180 the other way, going from the one who gets snubbed to the one who backs off. And damned if it doesn’t work better. OK, I think it works better. Again, a job for my crit partners to tackle at this point.
Easy, right? If I could come up with the fact that they changed direction then their reasons should be obvious. But it wasn’t so easy. The relationship between the two develops along two different lines, with two different motivations for pursuit. When the two switched sides, I had to figure out why. Each character, each scene, each story, needs to have three things: goal, motivation, and conflict (Thank you, Debra Dixon!).
I thought I had these taken care of, but apparently not. I think I know my characters pretty well going into a story, but now and again they surprise me by not doing what I want them to do. I’m not a writer who *speaks* to her characters. I don’t have visions of them in my head stamping their wee feet at me with petulant little pouts on their full lips. I do see scenes play out in my head, like a mini movie, but the characters don’t talk to me directly. What happens is that scenes just don’t work. They read flat and boring. It’s like watching a movie on an ancient projector with a sticky feed; the film in my brain stutters and the action stops. I have to go back and rewind, figure out what was going on before that point in the story and what will be going on later. I’m not a strict plotter, so sometimes this happens at turning points that need to be addressed with more depth than I’d previously considered. Which is fine. Most of the time, I catch it before sending bits out to my CPs. This time, not so much. So I revised. And revised, and revised, and revised. And I think it’s a lot better than it was. Is it perfect? No, but that’s what my crit partners are for : )
And if this story is ever sold, chances are it will be revised again to some degree. But that’s fine too. Any agent or editor who wants to work with me and get me closer to publication is more than welcome to ask for revisions.
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Open Door Dilemma
For those in the writing world, particularly the romance genre, whether your loves scenes are behind closed doors or not means a great deal about how you’re perceived as an author. There are certain names we associate with steamy romances, and can expect nothing to be held back when it comes to the bedroom (or boardroom, or pool house, or airplane restroom (which I could never understand seeing as there’s barely room for one person to do what they’re SUPPOSED to be doing in there, let alone two people having sex)) antics of the characters. Others build up the sexual tension to the point just before the deed then “close the door” and let the reader use her imagination. There are pluses to that, I assure you ; ) Still others are “sweet” and don’t have the characters even get to the bedroom door.
OK, so where am I going with this? Well, in my current WIP (which I’d rather not divulge details on at the moment), I have to decide if I want the door open or closed. The question of whether they’ll be in the bedroom has already been answered. But just how far do I take it? My other stories are more closed door, and if not closed, less detailed. Not “steamy” scenes, just brought to a simmer. Lately, however, I’ve been more inclined to have things spelled out.
Am I responding to the current trend of sexier books? Not consciously, I don’t think. When romances began showing a lot more skin (I know I’m behind the times here, so bear with me) I got nervous about my stories because I wasn’t writing or even considering including more graphic sex. Sure, there was romance, but I always stopped short of the act. I closed the door.
Now? My current characters aren’t just inclined to leave the door open but to kick it in, sell tickets, and include certain members of the audience (if you consider the reader as the audience, it isn’t a bad thing really). Where the hell did these people come from???? I know, I know. My head. Which, if you want to know the truth, makes me a tad nervous. How long have these folks been lurking there? I’m no prude, and I’ve read my share of erotic stories, but in the past the idea of WRITING them hasn’t been me. Well, I guess it’s me now. Or part of me at least.
So do I or don’t I? I know it’s difficult for anyone but my crit partners who have read the current story to answer that. And chances are they’re the only one’s who’ll read this anyway : ) My head tells me to follow my characters and the needs of the story, but I can go either way, really. And do I want to be this kind of writer? If I can do it well, then I might give it a shot. Maybe this is what I need to put out there to get published. I don’t know. But I live in a very small, mostly conservative town (perhaps I need to consider a pseudonym…), and I’d like my mother to be able to read my stories without feeling funny. She’s not into the steamier stuff. I don’t think….Um, Mom? Never mind, I don’t really want to know.
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Acknowledge and Move On
Dear Fellow Aspiring Writers;
Thanks for taking a break from the head-against-wall banging to visit. As someone in the same unpublished boat, I can completely understand your frustration at trying to get your work out there. I’ve been at this for more than a few years, longer than some and not as long as others, but believe me when I say I get where you’re coming from in regards to submitting and the responses received.
It’s the responses to responses I’m going to address here. You know what I mean. Whether we get the Five Minute Rejection (Did you even read my email???), the Eight Month or More Wait That May Be a Good Thing But is Finally a Rejection, or the No Response Assume It’s a Rejection Rejection, I beseech you, F.A.W., to not–let me repeat that–NOT respond to the editor or agent to whom you submitted.
It’s very unprofessional and makes you look bad. Agents and editors are in the business of requesting books they think will sell. They understand you’ve put blood, sweat and tears into your baby, but so have a gazillion others. As frustrating as a form rejection is, as unhelpful as you may see it (I know what you’re thinking: “If they’d only tell me WHY the story didn’t work, I could fix it!” It’s not that simple and most in the publishing business don’t have time to explain why their gut says no.), this is the way the writing life usually works. Deal with it. Rant to your friends, your dog, your teddy bear, or what have you, but don’t fire off an angry email or letter calling the agent/editor names or questioning his judgement or parentage. Just don’t.
I’ll admit, I’ve responded to the rejection on a full manuscript with a “thanks for the advice” note ONLY when the person I submitted to sent me a decently long letter telling my why she ultimately rejected it. I didn’t rant about how she was wrong, or beg her to reconsider if I promised to revise to her liking. No. I merely said I appreciated the detail of her reasons and acknowledged that few in her position were kind enough to take the time to do so. I wasn’t being a kiss-ass, I was sincere. Also, I figure if I ever want to resubmit another project at a later date, I’d rather be remembered as the writer who wrote a short note than the one who went off the deep end.
Why am I so passionate about this? No, not to put myself on the good side of agents and editors (it’s not like gobs of them will be seeing this), but for my own selfish reasons. You see, I’m almost always in a state of waiting for a response on some project or another, and one agent has plainly stated that they will not respond to equeries (my preferred method these days) because of the number of negative responses they’ve gotten in the past. So, if you submit to this agent, they only respond if they are going to request a partial or full. I can’t blame this person–no one wants to open their inbox to a bunch of whiny responses to rejections–but now I have to wonder if this agent is rejecting my work or merely taking a while to respond. And everyone KNOWS how WELL writers take waiting.
It’s oh, so frustrating for those of us who are mature enough to take the blows, dust ourselves off and get back up and write, to have to suffer the consequences of a writer or two or a dozen who just can’t take “no” for what it is. It’s not personal, people, it’s business. Acknowledge (in your own private, personal world, not to the rejecter) and move on to the next person on your submission list, or on to your next project. Threaten to quit. I think about doing just that when too many downs hit me all at once.
It’s not an easy thing, this writer’s life, and the rest of us would appreciate it if you didn’t make it any harder.
Thanks. Now get back to work.
Cathy
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Spam Spam Spam Spam
I love spam.
The canned kind is a guilty pleasure I rarely allow myself to have. Fried up with a couple of eggs on toast and topped with ketchup, it reminds me of my dad, who loved the stuff. What beats the artery-clogging goodness of fried eggs and pork product? Nothing, I tell you.
But it’s the other kind of spam, the stuff I find in my email inbox, that I’m talking about today.
I love that kind of spam too, but for a different reason. It makes me chuckle. Most of my email is received at a Yahoo! address. Yahoo! is pretty good about filtering, so most spam is sent to my bulk folder and easily deleted. In fact, I receive very little spam at my Yahoo! address, and am grateful. And just because I say I love it doesn’t mean I want more of it. Really. I get enough as it is, thank you very much.
The gobs of spam that land in my website inbox cracks me up. How, in the name of all that’s good and right in the world, would ANYONE think responding to these solicitations was a good idea? And what lists have I ended up on? Let me assure you, I never open the emails that are sent, but merely reading the subject lines is enough to see my life is woefully lacking.
If I were to answer the spam I get, I’d have the latest software and pharmaceutical products at incredibly low prices, a personal loan at the best possible rate available on the planet, the ability to purchase medication to enlarge my pen!s (yes, the ! to replace the “i” is common, to fool the filters, I assume) (I have yet to receive spam telling me how I, a female, can get my own pen!s, but I’m sure that’s just a matter of time) so my women will be happy with the hours upon hours (huh?!?!?!? ever hear of chaffing, people?) of sex we could have. And if I don’t have my own woman, there are apparently scores of girls waiting on certain sites for me to choose from.
Lucky, lucky me.
Like the canned spam, computer-generated spam can clog things up. Annoying? Yes. Heart-burn inducing? Sometimes. But if you’re careful, it’s not going to kill you.
Hey, is it lunchtime yet?
Posted in on my mind
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And Just Like That, I Have a Job
No, not a writing gig, unfortunately. I assure you, were I to get anything resembling a contract of any kind you wouldn’t have to read it here first. You’d HEAR my hoots of delight from whatever corner of the world you reside.
The job I have is with the local school district as a substitute aide or teacher (hahahaha–Cathy flicks tear from corner of eye). Andrea, one of the lovely ladies who runs the office at my kids’ school, called me earlier today to see if I’d be interested in applying, as there is a shortage of subs. This being a small town, I wasn’t surprised about the difficulty of getting subs. The calling me at home to ask was another matter. I’d never been solicited for a job I hadn’t first applied for or mentioned any interest in pursuing. Another aspect of small town living: they know who is working a regular job and who isn’t. I’m an “isn’t.”
So, I agreed. Andrea told me to go to the troopers’ office to get a background check then to the superintendent’s office to fill out the application. Oh, and please do it soon, as they need me. Tomorrow. Um…okay.
Off I go to the troopers’ office. I showed them two forms of ID, signed a paper, and two minutes later I received an official “Nope, she’s never committed any crimes” report. I’ve led a relatively boring life, criminally speaking. Then it’s to the superintendent’s office. I told the woman at the desk I was there to fill out an application for substitute aide. She said, in effect, “Oh, yes. Andrea said you’d be coming in.” Good thing I didn’t put it off or maybe they’d have called me at home again to ask where I was. More paperwork, more showing of ID and now I have a job. Well, not a regular job, but that’s fine too.
Tomorrow is my first day. Gulp! I haven’t worked outside the home (or inside much, if you ask my husband) since before my 7 year-old was born. Should be interesting. But as a substitute aide for elementary kids, I’ll be okay. I may not be able to run faster than them, but I can scream louder.
Wish me luck.
Posted in on my mind
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American Title IV–The New Beginning
It’s time, once again, for the Romantic Times/Dorchester Publishing sponsored American Title contest! (insert cheery fanfare)
Can you believe it’s been a year since I posted to beg for votes as American Title III started? Well, it has, and now it’s time for a new crop of writers to show you their stuff.
This year’s theme is paranormal, a personal favorite of mine. Just from the descriptions of their work you can see a variety of sub-genres. And that’s only the tip of the sub-genre iceberg. In paranormal there’s something for everybody!
Several of the finalists are, not surprisingly, members of the Futuristic, Fantasy & Paranormal Special Interest chapter of the RWA. There are also a couple of finalists from across the Pond.
The First Line voting has begun over at Romantic Times and runs through October 28th. Go. Read. Vote. I’m going to do the same, then reminisce about the complete bundle of nerves I was a year ago over a nice cup of coffee. (Cathy channels Barbara Streisand) “Memories….light the corners of my mind…..Misty water colored memories…of the way we were……”
Go vote now or I’ll be forced to actually sing at you. And nobody wants that, believe me.
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Belated Birthday Adventure
It was my birthday a couple of weeks ago while my in-laws were in town. They offered to watch the kids while hubby and I went out for dinner, but instead, because it was a gorgeous early autumn day (and you have to take advantage of those, especially here in the Frozen North), we decided to all go Childs Glacier for a picnic (pics forthcoming–I’m having sizing issues!).
The glacier wasn’t calving as actively as it did when we were last there, but there were still plenty of cracklings and splashes to catch our attention. It was great. You can’t beat grilled hamburgers (from my father-in-law’s ranch) and hot dogs, super sweet fresh pineapple, and a loving family to make the best birthday bash.
After we ate and the bugs started coming out in force, we decided to head home. It’s a 45 minute or so trip on a gravel road and the kids had school the next day. In the parking lot, the tire on our minivan was low, so hubby filled it and we stopped along the way to refill it with some of that Fix-a-Flat stuff in a can. That worked for about 12 miles. When we stopped again, it was decided that the tire was too badly damaged to be Fix-a-Flat-ted. Time to break out the spare. This was the first time since buying the vehicle over 10 years ago that we’ve had a flat. No, seriously. So the spare has never been needed. Our first task: finding the spare.
I thought it was on the inside, behind the back seat and under the carpet. Nope, just a little plastic nut. The actual spare was under the car, attached to the vehicle by some bizarre mechanism that required lowering it down on a thin cable by turning the nut above it, pulling the tire out from under the car, tilting it to get the brace thingy through the center of the tire’s rim, then rewinding the cable so it wouldn’t drag on the road. Luckily it was a gorgeous day because had we been trying to do this if it were rainy or snowy I think my hubby would have preferred to walk the 20 miles back to town. What a stupid mechanism!
But hubby and F-I-L valiantly changed the tire while our girls played on a nearby pile of sand. M-I-L and I chatted, and I took a picture of the moon over the mountains and river flats. (Again–pic forthcoming. Sorry!) (I have a picture of hubby and F-I-L changing the tire, but it is neither flattering nor in focus.) We went on our merry way, traveling along on the donut-esque spare.
The next day, hubby and I did go out for dinner, and to meet with a group of folks from his job who were celebrating a coworker’s birthday. At that gathering, I met up with a guy I’d worked with 17 years before–and hadn’t seen since–during a post-Exxon Valdez oil spill research season (I was a biology grunt in my former life). How weird is that? When hubby and I came home, the kids and the in-laws had a belated surprise party for my birthday, complete with balloons, streamers and cake. What fun!
All in all, a great birthday. I can’t wait for next year. What will happen then? Perhaps a blown hose, or running out of gas. No matter what, I know it’ll be fun.
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Back to Work
Living where we do, it’s a rare treat to have visitors. Since moving from our more accessible town to the current one this June, we’ve already been delighted by visits from friends from Oregon and my in-laws from eastern Washington. At different times, of course. Our house isn’t large enough to accommodate four extra adults. And during this last visit with the in-laws, we spent a good bit of it using only 1.3 of our 2 bathrooms. Don’t ask.
Both couples are very nice, very special people, and we wish their visits could have been longer, even though I get squat done on my writing : ) But I promised myself I’d be good and make up for it. So I’m off to make some hard copies of things I need to tweak. Hard copies because we’re on the go this weekend and I won’t be at my computer. Hopefully there will be some cool pics to share in the next post. Make sure to ask if I don’t.
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What in the World
My friend Jody has been asking (**koff** nagging**koff**) about the universe in which I’ve set my current WIP. When presented to her for sage advice and critique, one of her first questions was why had I set it in the world I did (it’s a non-Earth futuristic) when with a little effort (read: real world research) it could be a contemporary story? My initial answer, “Because I wanted it that way,” didn’t satisfy her. And rightly so. She brought up many valid points and made me explore aspects of the world that make my head hurt. But in a good way.
Even if the majority of the worldbuilding doesn’t hit the pages, it’s very important for a writer to understand the underpinnings of her universe. Why? For one, it adds depth. Bandying about futuristic or perceived futuristic terms and ideas isn’t enough. There has to be substance behind them. For another, because, as my mother says, G_d willing and the creek don’t rise, this story will get published at some point and someone, somewhere, will ask about a detail in the book. As the creator of that universe, I’d better have a more significant answer than “Um, I dunno” or “Because I wanted it that way.”
There are many blogs and sites about worldbuilding and such (just Google “worldbuilding” and you’ll get oodles of hits), so I won’t go into them here. Over at the Otherworld Diner blog, they’ve discussed this and are currently posting about characterization. Interesting insights and ideas, so go check it out.
Me? I’d better get back to work. With the help of Jody and my BFF Sharron, I’ve been exploring a strange, new world where no one has gone before. Not only is the setting richer (I hope), but the plot is deeper, twistier (I hope X 2). Now, I have to take notes from IM and phone conversations and incorporate them into the story. Not all of them, because I don’t want to write a travelogue of my world. I just want people to believe it exists long enough to then have to smack themselves on the head as a reminder that it doesn’t. And have to read the next book to get their “fix” : )
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