But It's a Dry Heat

Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category

Step One, Dig a Hole

Gardeners bury their mistakes.

Whenever I talk about gardening, there is always someone who is quick to say, “I can’t grow anything; I have a brown thumb.” Now, I recognize that this may be an attempt to shut me up.  “Dear Lord, don’t let her start blathering about ‘soil’ again.”

But to the small percentage who say this with genuine chagrin, my reply is: “So do I.  All gardeners have brown thumbs.”

Here’s the thing.  Gardening is as much about death as it is life.  As with any hobby (or profession), success is achieved largely through a willingness to learn from your mistakes, and sometimes, to simply ignore them.

I’m a geek.  I love science-y stuff.  In college, I took Botany and Biogeography.  I know how photosynthesis works and understand the C4 pathway. But often, when a plant dies, I have no fucking idea why. And die, they do.

I gave it the perfect conditions: just enough water; well-drained soil; a touch of compost.  And it still got dead. In this way, gardening mirrors publishing.  You can have the perfect story for the perfect market, and it still gets rejected.  The only difference being, that unlike publishing, I don’t torture myself over Mother Nature’s rejection of my attempts to meddle.

I dig up the dead thing, chuck it in the compost pile, and plant something in its stead. Game over, insert quarter, play again.

And if all else fails, water the weeds.

Like a Roller Coaster

Dunno.  Maybe it’s hormones.  Maybe it’s just life.  But these past weeks I’ve been vacillating between giddy-happy and morose “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”

“Boing, there she goes” triggers include everything from politics, New Zealand (poor Christchurch), Japan (sigh, poor Japan), to our lovely New Mexico spring.

Nothin’ makes my goonier than publishing.  Saw the release of my first book, The Music of Chaos.  Immediately wondered if I’d lost my mind by letting the world see what a dog-awful writer I am.  Got a couple of good reviews. Up. Then, back down the rabbit hole of gloom, when I realize that every other author out seems to know how to promote.  “Doomed, doomed, my book is doomed.” (Cue those really great ominous drums from the Mines of Moria in Fellowship of the Ring.)

Meanwhile, The Canvas Thief was (more…)

Ebook Publishing for the Lazy and Unethical

As I noted in my posting at the other blog, my blog got plagiarized. The thieving site, is the ironically named Write (Create) Your Own Ebook (write-your-own-e-book.info/blog/judging-an-ebook-publisher-by-the-covers). I’m not including a clickable linky, because they don’t deserve the linkage.

The site is selling a book on how to write a book without actually doing any of your own writing. They [site owners] demonstrate this with their blog, which steals other people’s blog postings, without giving clear, attribution to the author. (Burying a link at the end, is not clear attribution.) The blog allows no comments; there is no contact information included; and their Whois information is hidden.

Some say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but, me I’d prefer cold, hard cash, or at least correct attribution–My name (P. Kirby or Patricia Kirby) on the article–of my work.

Blog plagiarism is theft.

Cross posted at Ramblings from the Desert.

Judging an eBook Publisher by the Covers

And by their web page.

These days new epublishers are popping up like daisies on the lawn. Over at Absolute Write, someone starts a thread inquiring about a press’s bona fides almost daily.

Before you sign a contract, or for that matter, submit a manuscript to a publisher, you should always do some research.  But before you bother to Google, post a question in a newsgroup, etc., there’s one simple way to gauge whether a pub is worth the mouse clicks.

Look at their web page, especially their home page.

A publisher’s page should do one thing and do it well. Sell books.

It’s easier to show than (more…)

Taming of the Muse

INT. MY OFFICE-AFTERNOON

ME: (Speaking to my muse) Where the heck have you been?

MUSE: Around.

ME: Around?  Doing what?

MUSE: Stuff.

ME: What kind of stuff?

MUSE: Stuff.

ME: Like what? Searching the Internet for nekkid pictures of Hugh Jackman?

MUSE: (Indignant sniff.) That would be you.

ME: Right.  The point is, you’re (more…)

In Which I…Ooo! Something Shiny!

It’ll just take a minute.

Famous last words.  Uttered before I descend into a two-hour long journey into the darkest pits of time wasting.  A.K.A, the Internet.

The plan.  Hop online.  Update my blog. Get outta there. Get to work on W.I.P.

They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Well, it’s also littered with the sad detritus of best-laid plans.

I log onto my blog. (No small task because I have to dig through the mountain of paperwork on my desk to find the sticky note containing my password.) But I’m otherwise prepared, having already written the post. (At work.)

Copy-paste, and voila, I haz blog post. I scan it carefully for typos, find and correct several. Upload a cute pic to go with posting and hit “Publish.”

Re-read the post and find more typos. Correct and re-publish.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  Several more times.

Scan rest of blog and notice typos–glaring, huge, blind man can see ’em from space, typos-on older posts.  Correct those typos.  In the process, note that new blog template has fucked up pics on an older post.  Fight with image settings for fifteen minutes.  Blister the air with curse words, delete and reload image.

All done.  Except, lookee! Another fucking typo on the latest post.  Correct.

Study the blog and wonder if I should add an easy link to Chapter One of The Music of Chaos. Wander off to find a java thingy to make a pop-up window.  Find a site with cute animal videos. Squee! Baby animals.

An hour later…it’s almost five o’clock. Husband will soon be home. Horse and hound are demanding dinner. I notice I’m still logged onto my blog and wonder why…java thingy, W.I.P. and The Great Plan now forgotten.

My mind needs a memory upgrade.

There’s No Nice Way to Say, “You Bore Me.”

Alternative title: How Critters Online Workshop Taught Me to Sympathize with Editors

So there it sits. Like a big ole zit on the nose of my (already crappy) day. The form rejection letter. Besides the sense of crushing defeat, there’s that whiny girl voice in my head, who opines, snottily, “You couldn’t even spare me a hint, a sentence, as to why my manuscript is Teh Big Fail?”

For the first emotion–defeat–the only cure is time. (Or alcohol.) But the second–irritation–is easily soothed by my experience at Critters Online Workshop.

I’ve been a member of Critters, off and on, for about five years. I’ve critiqued at least 700 manuscripts, including a half dozen novel length works. To maintain good standing at Critters, you critique approximately 3-4 manuscripts a month. Each week, you pick a story from the pile and have at it.

The experience provides an (more…)

Courage Is

A quick doodle that got out of hand.  Featuring Talis, a dark elf, and a character from my novel The Music of Chaos. (Click image for full view.)

This is totally non-canon since Talis is a pacifist. I was listening to the song “Courage” by Orianthi and this image came to mind. The Music of Chaos is set in modern day Albuquerque, NM and Talis’s usual apparel is blue jeans and a ratty T-shirt, not the D&D get-up he’s sporting here.

Talis is one of those characters who originates as a bit of background flavor and then devours page space like a rottweiler on a steak. He started out as a passing character in a single chapter.  Literary oblivion was the fate I’d chosen for him, since the chapter didn’t advance the story at all.  Then I made the mistake of giving him a drop of backstory.  The drop became a flood as I got more and more fascinated with him.

Before I knew it, he was Regan O’Connell’s (the protagonist) best friend. And then he started popping up in every short story I wrote.

One of these days, he’s getting his own novel.

Writing with No Brakes

In which I embark on the adventure known as NaNoWriMo.

I’m giving it a go.  November.  Thirty days and thirty nights of literary abandon.

In other words, I’m going to try to crank out 50,000 words of mostly coherent story in thirty days.

My NaNoWriMo profile is here, should someone who isn’t a spammer stumble on this post and want to join me.

As usual, I’m working with a bare skeleton of a synopsis.  Where “skeleton” is the kind that archeologists find: a tibia, part of a scapula, a jaw, a rib.  The trouble is I can’t really write a synopsis  until I get to know the characters.  And I can’t do that until I write the bloody novel.

Onward!

The Well-Adjusted Vampire

Coming at the end of October January 2011…The Music of Chaos, my urban fantasy novel, from Decadent Publishing. With all the usual urban fantasy elements–ass-kicking heroine, magic, snappy dialogue, and cheese enchiladas–and absolutely no whiny, schmopey, mopey vampires.

My vampires like being vampires. No “Woe is me, I’m a beautiful immortal with superpowers on an all-liquid diet. I haaate myself” nonsense.

My eyebrows crawled upward. “You realize you just made a movie reference. I am rubbing off on you.”

“Yeah. Like ringworm.”

~Regan O’Connell, the protagonist, and Breas Montrose, vampire, having a warm fuzzy moment.