The Two Minds of B.E. Sanderson

I'm of two minds.  On the one side, I have the creative mind.  It writes books and does covers and pretty pictures.  On the other, the business mind.  It does all the other stuff - accounting, marketing, formatting, publishing, editing, etc.  And they can't seem to work at the same time.

Most days, I can keep them apart.  Business works in the morning.  Creative works in the evening.  

But when one of them is particularly focused on its job, the other one takes a vacation.  When I'm deep into the writing, I can't seem to get Business to do the stuff it needs to do.  When I'm deep into work chores, Creative doesn't want to work and laughs at me when I try.  

Like when I get a bunch of spreadsheets to do for the pay-job... I can't write that day.  Unfortunately, it doesn't work the other way because the pay-job stuff is time-sensitive.  It comes in and I do it, regardless of where I'm at with the writing.  Lucky for my writing, it doesn't happen too often.  I get the spreadsheets done in the morning and by evening, I'm ready to let Creative loose.

Right now, I've been wrapped up in post-publication stuff.  Business has taken over and Creative is at the beach napping under an umbrella.  I want to write.  I have ideas.  But I can't seem to get that part of my brain in gear.

Occasionally, the two minds have jobs that overlap.  Marketing, for instance.  It's a job for Business, but in order to get snazzy copy, Creative has to cooperate.  Trying to wake her up to write ad copy for FB posts first thing in the morning is like waking a hibernating squirrel.  Gah.  I should set those things up at night, but try and get Business awake enough then to remember to prod Creative... Gah.

Unfortunately, Creative is easily derailed.  Of course she is, she's creative.  She gets distracted by everything.  Like I said... squirrel.  If Creative had half the focus Business does, I'd be cranking books out all over the place.  But no.  Then again, if she was focused, she wouldn't be creative.  Or something.  I guess.

Not sure what the answer is.  Muddle along?  I do have 16 books out now, so it's not like it isn't working entirely.  Some days I just wish it would work more efficiently.  

What about you?  Do your creative and business sides work together?  

Note:  I am not insane.  Really, I'm not.

Edit Brain

You know you've been working on edits to the exclusion of everything else when you find yourself editing everything.

- books you're trying to read for pleasure
- the ticker on the bottom of the news channels
- the newspaper
- your thoughts
- the things your friends and family are saying
- other people's Facebook posts, blogs, tweets, etc.
- websites you're visiting

I've entered and deleted numerous sentences and paragraphs just* trying to write this blog post.  And I don't usually worry too much about editing blog posts.  Is this right?  Is that right?  Could it be clearer?  What if I worded it that way?  No, that way was wrong, go back to the other way.  Blerg.

This, of course, is known as edit brain.  For those of you who might not be writers, it's a malady we get when we're editing.  Bear with us.  And yes, I will be mentally editing your comments.  I can't help it.  Don't worry, though, I won't say anything out loud about it.  I'm trapped in edit brain, but I'm not rude.  Geez.

Although, to be honest, sometimes when I'm cursed with edit brain, I do say things without thinking about them.  Which is only a problem for people I may be conversing with.  Lucky you, you're only reading my thoughts, not hearing them in person.  (Lucky me, Hubs is used to it.)

On a positive note, I should be done with this edit pass today.  On the other hand, I'll start the next edit pass tomorrow.  Once this goes out to the proofers, I'll chill out.  Maybe.  You never know with edit brain.  Sometimes it lingers.

*When editing, words like JUST stand out like a big, ol', red splotch on the tip of my nose. 

Welcome to the Wonderful World of Crutch Words

Or should I say, welcome once more? 

This time around, since Unequal was a book I'd written a while ago - you know, before I became totally awesome* - I have additional words to add to my usual words and my usual words were worse than usual.

It took me off and on about 4 hours to go through all the THAT.  Started out with 413 instances.  Ended up at 124 instances.  The next day, I tackled LIKE.  Went from 322 to 106.  Then I did JUST. 

Funny thing about JUST, though.  I did my usual search for JUST and Word told me I had 434 instances of it.  Ack!  But I forgot to allow for the fact that one of my central characters is named JUSTIN (of which there were 328 instances... he talks and people talk about him a lot).  JUST is also inside ADJUST.  In the end, after all the weeding was done and the other instances were tossed out, I wound up with only 32 instances of JUST all by itself.

Yesterday was a bear of a day between a 90 minute power outage and doing Christmas cards, but I did manage to tackle SAID.  Only got about halfway on that, but I managed to eradicate it 88 times so far.

Those four are my worst offenders.  Today, I'll finish SAID, then tackle KNEW/KNOW and THINK/THOUGHT.  And WHEN.  Then there'll be NOW and STILL.  Then we have EVEN. 

There are others, but those aren't as bad this time, so I will probably leave those alone.  Unless on my read-through they become irritating.  Then I'll go back and scrub those out, too.

After dinner last night, I told Hubs I needed to get back to work. Here's how that went...

Hubs:  But you've been working all day.
Me: This is supposed to release on Monday.
Hubs:  Call your publisher and ask for an extension.
Me: :laughing: I am the publisher.
Hubs: :laughing:  Exactly.
Me:  I called her and she said no.:more laughing:

Anyway, there's a lot of work still to be done, so I'm not sure I'll have this out on Monday like I promised.  Sorry about that.  On the bright side, it'll be better than it would be if I didn't bother doing this.

And now, back to work...

*That was a joke, folks.  If I was totally awesome, I wouldn't need to scrub crutch words out of every manuscript.  Derp.

Making the World a Safer Place One Story at a Time

Years ago, a writing acquaintance and I were talking about something or other with regards to writing crime and how other people might view us.  I pointed out that crime writers are probably the safest people in the world to be around.  We get all our violence and frustrations out on the page rather than acting on them in real life. 

Think about it.  We get pissed at someone, we write furiously and end up with a scene where a person gets horribly murdered.  (And if we're really good, the dead person in the book in no way resembles its real life counterpart - except in our minds.)  We don't rush out and kill someone, or even rush out and assault someone.  Fictional people die and the world is a safer place. 

Sure, there have been instances where a writer has gone off the rails and actually committed the crime.  But it's rare.  And I'd venture those whackos weren't very good writers anyway. Or at least not very smart criminals because when the story you wrote mirrors the crime you committed, it's a trail of breadcrumbs that leads the police right to your door.  Duh. 

I know I've managed to put a lot of my frustrations to bed by banging it out on the keyboard.  Sometimes even when I'm not writing a murder scene, just the act of writing keeps me from going postal*.

So, like I said, I figure crime writers - and writers in general - are probably the safest people to be around.  Unless you somehow happen to get in between us and our coffee.  Then all bets are off.  ;o)

*Obviously, it's not the only thing that keeps me from going postal.  There's this thing called knowing right from wrong.  And personality responsibility. And believing in the sanctity of life.  You know, simple stuff murderers forget or ignore.

True Crime Has Tainted Us

I really watch too much true-crime TV.  Hubs and I both do.  Case in point:

I was at the nearest gas station on Wednesday, getting my lottery winnings (don't be too excited, I didn't hit the jackpot or anything) and picking out some other tickets to try my luck on.  An older lady walked up next to me to turn her scratch offs in and buy some more - hey, it's a local pastime.  A young guy walked up shortly thereafter to pay for gas.  We were all just being amiable, as people usually are at the local gas station - when the young dude exclaims

"Oh man!  That chick just messed up her new Camaro!"

We all turn to look and see a woman in a new black Camaro slowly pulling away from the red concrete poles she'd just backed into.  She gets out to look.  Another guy who'd recently been inside the store walks up to her and they both gaze at the damage.  Then she gets into the driver's side and her guy gets into the passenger side.  They pull away just slowly enough for me and another gal to get the license plate number, then they jump onto the highway and speed off - blowing the stop sign at the intersection.

The dude who originally saw the accident pays and then goes back outside to his vehicle.  I and the other lady go back to choosing scratch off tickets.  A couple minutes later the gas guy comes back in and says his wife saw the whole thing.  The car had a red scrape down the side and she said they hit the gas pump.  More kerfluffle ensues.  And I head on my merry way.

When I get home, I relay the story to Hubs.  And that's when the true crime speculation comes into play.  Why did they speed off - blowing a stop sign in the process?  Why was she backing up right there in the first place?  Was the guy casing the place?  Had they already committed a crime someplace else?  Was it a simple case of pump and run where they didn't bother to pay for the gas they'd pumped?

Stolen car?  Stolen credit card?

No insurance?  No driver's license? 

Wanted in another town for some heinous crime???

Simple case of 'god, I feel stupid and don't want to face anyone in the store'?

I swear, we aren't normal anymore.  LOL

Yesterday, I was back at the gas station, claiming my winnings (yeah, still not a jackpot, but it bought lunch at KFC), and I asked the gals if they caught the culprits.  They didn't even bother calling it in to the police.  Nothing was damaged.  The red concrete poles have been run into so many times, it's hard to tell if they sustained anything new and even if they had, they aren't really worth making an insurance claim over. 

We'll never know exactly why the pair tore away from the scene like the sheriff was hot on their trail.  But they did pay for their gas before they left, so that's something.  ;o)

Do you wonder about stuff like we do?  What would you have thought if you saw the same scene I did?  Or am I just overly tainted by true crime television?