Writing and Editing a Fantasy is Hard Work

Writing a book is hard.  I mean, if you want to do it right, you have all this stuff you have to do and remember and juggle so it doesn't get lost and so every single thing makes sense.

Writing a fantasy takes hard to a whole new level.

Let's say you write a book filled with normal people set in the present.  You can pull from everyday to populate your book and color their world.  Then you write a book with not-normal people (paranormal) or set in another time (history/dystopian).  You can still pull from everyday for the setting or your experiences as a human interacting with normal stuff.

Fantasy has not-normal people in not-normal places interacting with not-normal things.  That's a lot of stuff you have to make up in your head.  And it all still has to be believable.

There still has to be rules.  You make a critter that lives in the dark, and it can't have attributes of critters that live in the light.  That sort of stuff.  You make a character with loads of power, they still have to get tired.  Eat a muffin.  Sleep.  Your rules can go against normal rules of physics, certainly, but they need to be consistent.  (An all-powerful magic user would get pretty boring, by the way.)

Anyway, I kind of understand why a certain author takes forever to get his books to print.  Although, one might think he'd have his world down by now so he could easily slip into it and crank out whatever book number he's on.  For the record, I don't read this particular author's books, but I hear people complaining about them and how long it takes.  Perhaps someone could suggest a series bible type thing to make the process quicker.  :shrug:

As I sit trying to make progress on the editing of this book... still haven't nailed a title yet... and find myself looking at the percent meter and barely seeing it move from day to day, I'm struck by how much harder this seems than editing my other books.  I built a world.  And as I was building it, things changed between the beginning and the end, so now I need to make the beginning match the end in all the world-building ways.  

I don't know how many pages of notes I have now.  A lot.  Everything from a comma to 'this needs to be moved over there' to rewrite this scene.  And I'm only at 9% as of last night.  That's like 9000 words out of 97000.  Blerg.  So, I guess what I'm saying is... if you're sitting around waiting for this to be done, don't hold your breath.  This shit is hard.  I'm loving it, but that doesn't make it any easier.  Might make it harder because I want this to be the best book it can be and that's going to take a lot of work.  

But I'll do it.  Sometimes I lay in bed at night wondering why I don't just go back to mystery and suspense.  Give myself an easier task.  But I started this and I am going to finish it.  I'm mulish that way sometimes.  And this will be so satisfying when it's done.

What's a task you've completed that you knew was hard going in but had to complete?  

Back in the Thick

I finished reading the unfinished manuscript yesterday.  And I started writing on it again.  Only 500 words, but it's a start.  It'll just take me a little while to get back in the swing of it again.

I bet you're wondering which manuscript I restarted.  It's the Untitled Fantasy from several years ago.  (I think I started it in 2011 and then wrote some more on it in 2019.)

I think Aryl and the gang deserve to have their story finished.  It's a good one.  New and fresh... I think.  Admittedly, I haven't read a ton of recent fantasy novels, so how ground-breaking it will be remains to be seen.  :shrug:  It's got some elements y'all will be familiar with - young guy, school for mages, dragons... the battle between good and evil.  There's plenty of new stuff, too, though.  Dark stuffs.  This ain't Harry Potter, folks.

As I said in a previous post, it's a behemoth, but some fantasies are.  I'm still playing with the idea of breaking it into a series.  Once I get it all written, I'll decide.  I'm not promising when that'll happen, though.  There's still quite a bit to be written on the first draft and a lot to be inserted in the second draft.  

But I'm excited to be back in the thick of it again.  Hell, I dreamed about it last night and figured out a plot point, which I got up and wrote down in the dark last night.  (With a dull pencil.  Luckily, I can still make out enough of it to figure out what I meant. LOL)

I still don't have a title for it.  I haven't named the kingdom.  Or many of the monsters.  (I have a lot of :insert bad critter here: littered throughout.)  But I have the magics figured out and how everything fits together.  Sort of.  

It'll be fun figuring it all out.  Or it'll kill me.  One or the other.  We'll see what happens.  Woohoo.

Doing the Job

It seems like I've come around to that time again,  You know the time... when I sit here wondering why I bother to write books and wondering whether my time would be better spent  by getting a job outside the house.  

Of course, who would hire me?  I haven't worked outside my home in 17 years.  

Seventeen years...  I've been writing now for SEVENTEEN YEARS.  God, that's depressing.  

Yes, I know.  I have sixteen books published.  And umpteen others in various states of finished.  It's not like I haven't done anything.  But if I had an employee who was so sporadic in her efforts, I'd have fired her years ago.  Hit the road, you lazy bitch.

So, yeah, I looked at jobs.  Writing, editing, proofing... you need a degree.  Umm...  I don't have one of those.  And I haven't been able to write to spec since I worked for other people (and even then, it was like pulling teeth).  Editing/Proofing other people's work?  Well, that would be fine if it was for other people I like who write the stuff I like.  I'm at the point in my life where I can't stomach reading stuff I don't like written by people I don't like.  

Why yes, I would like some cheese...

Anyway, I'm thinking housekeeping would be an awesome job right now.  Loads of places around here - resorts and things - are hiring housekeepers and the pay isn't too bad.  

Or I could just get up off my lazy ass and get back to writing.  The pay sucks and the benefits are for shit, but it's my job.  Maybe I need to get back to treating it like one.

It's That Time Again

I'm at the point in my editing where it's that time again.  What time is it?  It's Crutch Word time!  That glorious time when I search through my manuscript for specific words and then eradicate them.

This is not as simple as Find and delete, delete, delete.  No, no.  That would really screw things up.  This is Find, fix, Find Next, fix... on and on until you've gone through the whole thing and then repeat with the next word.

Actually the first thing I do is Find each word and then click Highlight All, so it gives me a total.  Then I write the number down on my handy-dandy list of words.  After I have all the numbers, I start fixing them.  After I complete each word, I get a new total, so I can see where I'm at and whether I need to scour for that word again.  

Yesterday, I did THAT and LIKE and about 2/3rds of SAID.  It took me about 5 hours - an hour in the morning and a couple hours each in the afternoon and evening.  I intended to keep going and stay up late, but I got to the point with SAID that I was skipping instances without really looking at them or changing anything.  It's time to stop when it's no longer working.  I'll hit it again today.  

And when I get it all done, I'll hit the manuscript with the spelling/grammar checker to make sure I didn't screw anything up while I was fixing things.  

I will have this ready to go out before bed tonight.  If it kills me.  Which it just might.  (Heh, not really.)

Once it goes out, I'll take some time to write the blurb.  And think about what's next on the writing schedule.  And maybe just chill out for a couple days.

What's up in your world?

Kind of a Cascading Sale Thing

Okay, so I totally forgot to post here on Wednesday.  Which is kinda stupid of me, since I had a sale start on Wednesday.  Oh, I did all the marketing posts to FB and MeWe, but not here.  Derp.

Anyway, here's the deal...

DYING EMBERS is on sale now.  99c if you're in the US.  99p if you're in the UK.  This sale will last through to the 16th.  Then FERTILE GROUND goes on sale for 99 through the 23rd.  Then EARLY GRAVE goes on sale for 99 through the 2nd of March.

:shrug:  I'm trying something there.  Kind of a cascading sale thing.  Of course, I think the sales for FG and EG would be dependent on sales for DE, and so far it's been crickets for DE.  I'm not holding out a lot of hope.  

But hey, you can't win if you don't try.  Right?  

In other news, I've been so wrapped up in preparing for and worrying about the weather (it's frigid now and they're predicting 3-9 inches of snow for next week), I haven't used much brain power to actually work.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.  One would think because I'm stuck inside, it would be the perfect time to work.  Umm, nope.  

Hopefully, now that we're as prepared as we're going to get, I can settle down and work.  I need to poke myself in the ass and just get it done.  Sheesh.  

SeeMeWriMo And Making Time to Write

Okay, so I think we've decided on See Me Write Month as the name for September's write-a-thon.  I'll admit it didn't start out all wild horses here, but there are 29 more days to this month.

The plan for me... if I can manage to get off my dead ass... is to work on edits for Cinder Ugly in the daytime and then write new words at night.  I can do this. 

It's not like I have much else to do.  I work maybe 4-5 hours a week on the pay-job, chores don't take much of my time, and activity/exercise might be a 30-60 minutes a day.  That leaves scads of time.  Edit for an hour, write for an hour - every day.  Easy peasy.

I just need to crack the whip on my ol' gumption.  Get 'er done.  Yeehaw.  Really the only thing holding me back... the only thing to ever hold me back... is me.

168 hours in a week.
56 hours for sleeping (even if I don't actually sleep all those hours)
5 hours for the pay job
7 hours for the exercising

That still leaves like 100 hours unaccounted for.  What the hell am I doing with all those hours???   Surfing the net?  Reading the news I really don't want to read anyway?  When you think about it like that, there should be at least 14 hours a week I can set aside for writing and editing, eh?  In fact, that seems like a piddlin' small amount to devote to my chosen profession. 

Oh, sure, I know there aren't 100 free hours in my week.  There's mealtimes, and showers, and bathroom breaks, and cat stuff... and sundry other things that take up minutes in every day.  I read, I play poker, I watch TV.  Everything can fit, if I want it to.

And that's what these write-a-thon things are doing.  Training myself to look for the time and use it to do what I need to do - write and edit.  That's all that the original NaNoWriMo was ever good for, in my opinion. 

So, what are you doing with your 168 hours?  Are you finding time to do what you need to do?

When Work and Creativity Collide (aka My Work Side is a Bully)

I have a problem.  The part of my brain that deals with work stuff - finances, marketing, spreadsheets, etc. - is a bully.  When it's on, it grabs hold of the part of my brain that deals with creative stuff, smacks it around, and shoves it into a locker. 

I hadn't really thought about it before, but I suppose, looking back at it now, it's been a problem for a while.  I try to separate the two by doing work stuff in the daytime and creative stuff at night, but it doesn't always keep the bully in check.  Sometimes if I spend a lot of time on the work stuff during the day, I'm too beat up to let my creativity side play at night.

Not sure how to fix this.  I mean, I probably need to put my creative side on a regimented exercise plan ala Jack Lalanne, so when the bully side gets uppity, the creative can hold its own. 

I don't want to shut down the work side completely.  It's the side that makes me money.  But if all I have is the work side, I don't produce more product to make money with.  I'd love it if I could find a balance somewhere, make the two sides play nice for a while.  They need each other, after all.

I suppose I should just shut up and get 'er done.  Pull the creative side out of the locker and push it to stand up for itself. 

How about you?  Does your work side bully your creative side?  Vice versa? 

Changing a Character's Voice is Hard Work

Imagine you've typed along for weeks/months, building your world and populating it with unique individuals.  You've got a whole book.  Maybe more than one.  And suddenly, you realize this one character isn't as unique as you thought he was.

This hasn't been a problem for me.  Characters pretty much pop out of my head onto the page and I leave them as they are.  I haven't seen a reason to change any of them after they were already birthed onto paper. 

Then came Thomas... who popped into my head almost fully formed when I first started writing Ugly and the Beast.  But he was too much like another Thomas in another UF series.  So, he became Oliver.  And I wrote the whole book with Oliver being Oliver.

Except after I was finished and starting to write Cinder Ugly, I noticed a lot of other books had characters that were a lot like Oliver. 

Hit the brakes and hit the wall.

I'm too far along to completely change Oliver.  He's a cat.  He has to be a cat or there are several... tons... of scenes that don't work right.  He has to be a black cat - because I already paid for a cover with a black cat on it. 

Okay, I can do this.  In my head, I've reworked Oliver into Kazimir - an Eastern European aristocratic cat.  No biggie, right? 

Wrong.  I can't seem to get his voice to stick firmly in my head.  My head still wants him to sound like Thomas... err, Oliver.  And he's not.  He's Kazimir.  KAZIMIR.  Kaz-i-mir.  (Maybe if I keep saying his new name, it'll stick.)

I think I need to immerse myself in people speaking with that particular accent until I hear Kazimir talking in my head.  Right now, he's this bizarre snooty British/Russian/Geico Gecko with attitude and slang.  So, that definitely needs to change or it needs to be consistent.  And I need to make sure he doesn't sound too much like Grigori from the genie books. 

Gah.

Like I said, changing a character's voice is hard work.  But no one promised any of this would be easy.  And if they did... ROFL... right.

Now I just need to suck it up and move forward with this.  Maybe I'll sit down with my trusty notebook and have a little conversation with ol' Kaz on paper until I can hear him in my head. 

Ever have this problem?  If you're a reader, have you ever run across a case where the character's voice wasn't consistent?  Did it bother you as much as it bothers me?

I Also Write Books

Monday I was checking out at the Wallyworld and chatting with the cashier as I often do, when she says something to the effect of 'that's exactly how I dress on my day off'. 

First off, let's be clear.  I wear sweatpants to the Wallyworld.  I wear sweatpants everywhere for the most part.  Unless it's summer, then I'm wearing shorts.  It's this writer's standard uniform.  I'm all about comfort, baby. 

But this isn't a post about the uniform...

I told the woman it wasn't my day off and that I work from home.  And that, in fact, I had work to do as soon as I got home.  When she asked what I did, I told her...

spreadsheets.

And then as an afterthought, I told her I also write books.

She got a little excited then, so I rummaged in my purse for a bookmark to hand her.  Did the softshoe over the genres I write and encouraged her to check out my work.  On the drive home, I thought about all the things I could've told her about my books and my writing.  Sure, I didn't have much time because by then she was done ringing up my stuff and someone was behind me in line.  But I could've done more.

And then my brain went to the fact that when asked what I do for a living, my first answer was spreadsheets.  Yeah, well, spreadsheets does pay better.  And right now, I'm devoting more time to working spreadsheets than I am to working on anything even remotely writerly.

In fact, I spend more time whining about not writing than anything remotely writerly.  Gotta be loads of fun for my readers.  Sorry about that, folks.  But it is what it is.  Right now, I do spreadsheets.  And I also write books. 

Or I wrote books.  And I will again, if I ever manage to pull my head out of my as... armpit.

Being an Adult and Putting Bacon in the Pan

We were watching the game show 'America Says' yesterday... it's a show where they asked Americans to fill in the blank on a statement and then the contestants have to guess America's top seven answers..  Anyway, the statement was "I felt like an adult when I got my first ____________."  Most of the answers were easy - car, house, etc. - but there was one nobody could get.  When it was revealed, the final answer was PAYCHECK.

Hubs and I looked at each other in disbelief.  Neither of us were adults when we got our first paychecks.  Looking back, my first actual pay CHECK came when I was 17, but I'd been making money one way or another for many years before the checks started coming.

I don't remember what my first paying job was or even how young I was.  A couple of my siblings and I used to pick trash out of the neighbor's fields after windy days for a dollar a bag.  I did some parts assembly - putting rubber thingies on alligator clips for one of Dad's friends' company.  I did some data entry for the company Mom worked for.  When I turned 13, I was allowed to babysit for a dollar an hour.  After that, I was a housekeeper for the manager of the horse farm for like $6 a week and I mucked stalls in exchange for riding lessons.  All before I was an adult.

Then when I was a senior in high school, I got an official job working on a different horse farm where they paid minimum wage - $3.35 an hour - and wrote actual checks.  And took out taxes.  That part kind of sucked, but it was part of life.  Still didn't make me feel like an adult, though.

Before my daughter had her first paycheck job - which wasn't until she was actually an adult, come to think of it - she babysat, did data entry, shelving, etc. for my online book sales, and worked as an office assistant for a local retirement community.

I wasn't an adult when I got published for the first time.  Of course, I didn't get paid for that and, in fact, had to pay for the book my poem was published in, but back then, published was published.  I still have that book around here somewhere.

I figured it out once.  I had like 30 different jobs before I stopped working outside the home.  And that wasn't counting the pre-paycheck jobs.  My resumes were always a mess.  I often wished I could've just put 'Jack of All Trades' 1988-1996 and 2001-2003 to cover all the various jobs I held those years.  It certainly would've left more space for the few jobs that actually meant something.

Now, I'm a writer and a self-titled 'Spreadsheet Grunt'.  I'd just be a writer, but gal's gotta put some bacon in the frying pan somehow, if you know what I mean.

Speaking of which, I have a spreadsheet waiting for me...

What about you?   When did you start working for pay?  What was your first job?  What's your job now?

On the Charger

Okay, I told myself that, once I finished Unequal and sent it out into the world,  I would take time off of writing for the rest of the year.  No writing.  No editing.  Just time to gel and get myself back into a writerly place. 

Of course, there's no rest for the weary... or the wicked, if you will... so I'm not totally taking time off.  I have marketing stuff to do and writerly business stuff to do.  Year end stuff and coming year stuff.  (Plus, pay-job stuff.)  The non-creative half still needs to work.

This past week, I got the 2019 Sales and Book Sales Data spreadsheets done, so when 1/1/19 hits and the sales start rolling... err, trickling in, I'll be ready.

The creative half is storing energy.  Yeah, yeah, that's the ticket.  Storing energy.  Like a squirrel.  Yeah.  Cuz, let's face it - my battery is dead.  Look at this time as me putting the battery on a charger and letting it sit until it's full.  Then maybe when 2019 rolls around, I'll be able to sit down and churn out the words. 

And it's not like the creative half isn't trying.  Like the dead battery in your car, it's trying to turn over, but it just doesn't have the energy to actually start.  Little snips of story ideas wander through my brain.  Nothing worth writing down.  No gumption to actually sit here and write anything yet.  Just Rrr Rrr Rrr clickclickclick :silence: Can't even get the freakin' dome light to flicker.

So, that's where I am right now.  Sitting on the charger, waiting. 

Meanwhile, I have a sale coming up.  Starting Monday, the entire SCIU series will be discounted through the end of the 30th.  $3 off on DE, $2 off on FG and EG.  With ads.  And I'll be out there hawking my wares on FB and Twitter.  :fingers crossed:

How's you battery here at the end of the year?  Are you busy busy or taking some time off? 

Oh, and Merry Christmas!

Why Bother?

As I was laying in bed last night, trying to fall asleep and failing miserably, a thought occurred to me.  Why do I bother?

I'm in the middle of final edits for Unequal, you see, and I always reach a point where I am sick to death of scrubbing a manuscript and wonder why I bother to do all this work.  It's not like everyone else is bothering.  There are writers who are selling more books than I am who obviously didn't work as hard as I do cleaning up my manuscripts.  (Not all of them, lest ye think I am trashing people who don't deserve it.  I'd venture a greater percentage of authors bust their asses than don't.)  And I wondered if maybe I could get away with doing less, too.

Then I remembered something from my past...

Back in college, I was in the work-study program.  I got a placement in the library - my dream job - but it was in the Governmental Documents Department.  It was just me and this other gal, so we had a lot of work to do between us.  (We never got a lot of patrons to help, but the GPO puts out a LOT of documents that need shelving, etc.)  But we did it and we had fun with it.  There were busy times and slow times, like any other job, but we stayed on top of it all.  The only problem was she was a graduating senior.  The next year, it was me and this new gal.  I was still busting my hump, but she couldn't be bothered.  So, basically it was me doing everything the two of us did the year before.  I tried talking to her.  Nope.  I tried talking to the supervisor.  Nothing.  And then I began to wonder why I was working my ass off to make the same pay as the chick who did nothing.  And I thought, well, maybe I could do nothing, too.  But I couldn't.  It wasn't in me. 

That wasn't the first time in my life I ran across something like that.  It wasn't the last either.  When things need doing, I do them - whether others around me are inclined to put in the same effort or not.  The amount of effort others put in should have no bearing on how much effort I put it.  And it doesn't.

So, despite my 'why bother' thoughts, I will continue to bust through this edit.  And I'll make it the best book I can.  I have 40 pages left and then the last bits and pieces, then the formatting.  I can do it.  I will do it.  Might be a crispy writer by the time I'm done, but I'll have the rest of the year to recover. 

Ever been in a similar position - where you were working hard but your co-workers weren't?  What did you do about it?  In the case of the library, I eventually quit and moved on to another job where I wouldn't be carrying the full load and getting super frustrated all day.

Work is All Around

The other day I was sitting here bemoaning the fact that work is all around me.  I had a pile of work on the right side of my desk.  I had a pile of edits waiting to be input to the left of me.  And behind me was a whole house that needed cleaning.  (Still does.) 

A friend of mine commented on my bemoaning FB post about commiserating but having to leave for work in a few minutes.  And I joked about work being all around me and having to leave to not work. 

There are definite perks to working from home.  I can take off any time I want to.  I can go do other things when I need to.  I don't have to get dressed in outside wear and be presentable.  No makeup, no high heels, no pantyhose.  Ahhhh.

There are also definite non-perks.  I can never come home and forget about work like I used to when I held a job out there in the world.  I have to go elsewhere for that.  And my work hours are from the time I get up until just before I go to bed.  At any time during my awakeness, I could conceivably be working.  Today's workday could've started at 4:15am.  Yesterday's ended at 8pm when I knocked off to read for an hour before bed.

Sometimes I miss going off to work.  But that's rare.  And when I do miss it, I remind myself of all the downsides to working outside the home - traffic, other people, on my feet all day - and the feeling passes.

So, anyways, it's ten after six and it's time to get some household chores done so I can get to work.  My book is due at the editor today.  And I will have them done and to my editor before bed.

Do you work outside the home?  If you don't, do you miss it? 

Stuffs

With my other work project finally finished, for now at least, I can focus on my actual work stuff again.  Having said this, though, I realize I am playing catch-up.  I do have a book releasing this week - Early Grave (Book three of my Serial Crimes Investigation Unit series).  Over the weekend, I made a Goodreads listing for it, so that's something.

I know some of you weren't keen on the blurb, but I went with it.  It's in line with the blurbs from the other two.  (I changed the blurb for Fertile Ground, so it's more in line, too.  And creepier.  Can't help the creepy.)

I'm also hip deep in the final edits of Early Grave.  I should have those done over the next couple days and then I'll format.  And THEN I'll upload it to Amazon and make it live so all y'all can finally snag a copy.  So, Friday's still a good day for release and it'll be live earlier if I can swing it.  It's going into the world at $2.99.

BTW, if you missed it, FG is on sale all month worldwide.  It's 99c here in the US and all other prices are adjusted accordingly.  Dying Embers will be free sometime next week (I have to wait until my KDP 90 days is over on Wednesday and after EG is live to set that up.)

I have ideas for three more Dennis Haggarty mysteries.  I still have to write them, so don't look for those any time soon.  Next year maybe.

The way Sleeping Ugly is currently written, it will be a new series.  Which means I'd better get some ideas for subsequent books soon or rewrite SU so it's a standalone.

And I'm still planning on putting Unequal into the world either late this year or early next.  Another dystopian.  Weeee.

So much in my head and so little time to get it all done.  I need a clone.  Or a way to work more hours without going batshit crazy. 

Any questions? 

The Foolhardy Venture

Blink of an I is back from the editor and I've started on the final round of edits for that (well, final editor edits, then I'll do a final read-through for the little things).  Early Grave went to the editor yesterday.  I should be getting the bill for that today.  And thanks to the spreadsheet work I do, I have the money to pay the bill.

I was thinking about that last night when my brain probably should've been tucking itself in and winding down to, you know, sleep.  If you told me I would bust my ass everyday at my job and not get a regular check for it, I would laugh in your face.  But that's exactly what I do. 

Some... okay, most... would call it foolhardy.  Hell, so would I.  If my daughter came to me with this scheme, I would shudder in fear and wonder 'but how are you going to eat?' 

I mean, I'm lucky.  Hubs has always taken care of the paying for eating and housing and utilities.  He's even funded the majority of my foolhardy venture.  At some point, though, I had to get off the dole.  I had hoped to get off of it by my books paying for themselves.  Ummm... not yet.  There's always hope, but not yet.  I had this grand dream that by the third year of publishing, I would at least be funding myself.  Ummm...  I averaged about $30 a month last year.  That won't even pay for the editing on one book.  Forget covers and marketing.

So, I took up this spreadsheet thing.  It's kind of like taking in other people's sewing.  I get paid by the piece.  Not much, but it's paying the publication bills.  And it's enjoyable, in a teeth-gnashing kind of way sometimes.  Plus, it leaves me time to do my job - which is writer.

Yesterday, I did spreadsheet work in the morning, edited from then until the afternoon (when I got it done - otherwise I would've been editing into the wee hours of the night) and then did more spreadsheet work.  Today?  I started editing about 6am, then took a break to write this.  Whether I get any spreadsheet work to do today is anyone's guess.  If I do, I'll get it done and go back to editing.  So I can publish Blink on or around the 21st.

So, yeah, it's a foolhardy venture.  I'm kind of loving it, though.  And if I'm not making money at the writing thing yet, well, there's always hope.  Although, right this moment, I'm reminded of Dad's old maxim (paraphrased, of course): Hope in one hand and spit in the other and see which gets full fastest. 

LOL

Stalled

I've been trying to work.  Really, I have. 

I open the file for Early Grave and I go to where I last stopped reading.  (I'm reading the 130 pages I already have written so I can get a sense of where to pick up the writing again.)  I read through for a while until my brain hurts from all the flaws (it's very first drafty) and then I wander off.  I'm on pg70 now, but I started doing this like two weeks ago, so you see how that's going.

About a week ago, I sent Natural Causes to my Kindle so I could start editing that.  And there my Kindle sat on the table where it charges.  Yesterday, I took my Kindle and a notebook into the living room to maybe prod me into getting my ass to work.  Cuz, like, it's taking up half my end table and I have to keep moving it to access the Kleenex.  Nope. 

At the beginning of the month, I read through what I have written on Wish Hits the Fan, got to the end of that, and realized I have no idea where I'm supposed to go next.  I think about it when I'm driving, and sometimes when I'm trying to sleep, but I still can't see my way through.

Sometime in mid-Autumn, I thought it might be a good idea to work on rewriting Fear Itself.  I'm 66 pgs in on that.  But I haven't been able to muster the urge to sit my ass down and work through this.

So, I began pondering the idea of going back to something completely different.  I have that modern day Arthurian thing I was working on.  I was really excited about that.  Or Sleeping Ugly.  That was a lot of fun.  But I can't get excited about those either.  Nothing's blowing my skirt up*.

Not sure what the answer is here.  Not sure what the problem is either, so that's probably why I can't find the answer.  I don't feel burned out.  Maybe it's a combination of things that I won't bring up here because who needs to listen to me piss and moan.  (As if this whole post isn't akin to a PAM session.)

Anyhoo...  I hope this explains a little why I haven't published anything since September and I don't have anything on a publication schedule and why you haven't seen a newsletter in forever.  I'm stalled.  I'd like to be writing.  I'd love to have something to offer you that isn't a half-formed blob of primordial goo.  But I don't. 

Maybe 2017 will bring me some gumption.  But like I said in my Sunday Update, wishing for 2017 to be better only works if you're willing to do something to make it better.  When I figure out what that something is, I'll let you know.



* My great-grandmother was fond of saying 'Whatever blows your skirt up' instead of 'whatever floats your boat.'

A Job or a Hobby?

I've been thinking again.  Actually, I've been thinking for a while now.  Even before I got the email from a friend telling me about a funny conversation they had with their spouse and how the spouse thought what I'm doing over here is a hobby.  They defended me, of course, which was nice, but the whole relay set me thinking again.

Is this writing thing a job or is it a hobby?

On the one hand, I don't work normal hours.  And I don't just mean I don't work 8-5 with an hour for lunch.  I mean I don't work 40 hours a week.  Hell, some weeks, I don't work 20 hours.  I also don't work Monday thru Friday.  I work whatever days Sunday thru Saturday that I need to work.  When I'm deep in the working, that might mean I work 7 days straight and anywhere from a couple hours to five or six hours in one day.  Hell, I pulled a 14 hour work day that one time when I was rushing to put together a very specific submission of a time-sensitive nature.  When I'm not deep in, though, I could go days without opening a manuscript to work on.

No one pays me.  No one provides for my health insurance.  No one gives me benefits or vacation days or sick days.  I don't have a retirement plan.  I don't have co-workers.  My office is a desk set up in the corner of the library.  My computer is used both for frittering away time and doing productive things. (Well, that's kind of like a real job, I guess. LOL)  I don't wear a business suit or skirts or even shoes.  (Or even a bra, if you get right down to it.)

On the other hand, hobbies are supposed to be ways for a person to relax.  They're supposed to be fun pursuits to take your mind off the ol' day job.  Some people turn their hobbies into money-making enterprises - they sell quilts or knickknacks, they enter contests where they might win prizes, etc. - but they don't expect to ever live off the money they make.  And when they do, the hobby turns into a job. 

This isn't relaxing.  It isn't a fun pursuit.  Oh, sure, I love writing.  But it's also a stress-inducing pursuit that I need a hobby to get away from sometimes (like fishing).  And, sure, sometimes I can drain away stress by writing.  Give me a good action scene where I get to kill people and that can be super cathartic.  But for the most part, no relaxation in the writing biz. 

I am writer, publisher, editor-in-chief, marketing, art department, mailroom, public relations, IT, human resources, etc.  I don't know of a single hobby where one person takes on all of that - not and still pursues it as a hobby.

I have a feeling sometimes that I'm not very good at those jobs, but that doesn't necessarily turn it into a hobby.  It just means I'm not the best businessman in the world.  Good thing I'm not looking for investors.  Marcus Lemonis would kick my ass. And rightfully so.

Still, as I sit here, not writing and not really accomplishing the business goals I set for myself when I started this self-publishing endeavor, the thinking goes 'what if this really is a hobby and I'm just fooling myself?' and 'what if that person was right after all?' and then I begin to wonder why I'm putting myself through this for a freakin' hobby.  When a hobby begins to become more trouble than it's worth, I stop doing it.  As my big tub of crocheting materials can easily attest to.

So, I guess that means this isn't a hobby after all.  Lord knows, in terms of actual finances, this is way more trouble than it's been worth.  And I haven't quit yet.  Slowed down a little, maybe.  Went fishing instead of working, when the idea of spending more time on something that isn't paying off gets to be too much, perhaps.  :shrug:  In terms of actually having my books available for other people to read, this has been worth more than I can say. 

Who knows if this is a job or a hobby.  I guess that's only for me to say... for each of us to say about our own situations in our own ways.  And I guess I need to stop whining about it all and get back to work.

'Nuff said.

Where the Magic Occurs

So, I was sitting around Saturday morning looking at stuff and junk, when I realized that I didn't like my Twitter header anymore.  Which led to the bright idea to take a picture of my actual workspace.  Which led to this post. 

This is where I work - exactly as it is.  No retouching.  No cleaning.  Just my spot.  As is.  Kinda like me.  ;o)

So, there I am - laid out in workspace style.  You see my coffee mug.  You see my pack of smokes and my ashtray.  You see the myriad of writing utensils - one cup for pens and pencils, one for markers, and the last for highlighters.  Two calendars - the plain one on the wall for keeping track of things and my bird of the day calendar in the corner. (Today's bird is the White Tern.) There's also a photo of my mom and dad.  The remote goes to my little stereo, but I rarely listen to that. If you look closely, you'll find my headphones hanging from the drawer knob. Better to listen to tunes without disturbing the Hubs. The two books under my monitor are old Funk & Wagnalls dictionaries (A-L and M-Z).  The corner of the frame you can see in the upper right is a copy of The Declaration of Independence. 

For the record, those drapes are never opened.  And the window behind them leads to another room.  (I didn't design this place, so no clue why there's a window looking out on the sun room, but no windows looking outside.) 

Looking at this closely, you can also tell I need to dust.  Yikes, my keyboard.  Don't let the dust fool you.  If you could zoom in, you'd see there's no dust on the keys I actually use.  In fact, there are hardly any letters left on the keys I use most frequently.  Again.  I can't keep keyboard letters intact for more than a few months.

So, anyway, there I am.  Pretty much everything you need to know about me can be found in that picture.  (Okay, so you can't tell what's on the monitor.  It's a manuscript.  Naturally.)  All it needs is food and a little sculpture of a fish.

If you designed a workspace* that told your story, what would be on your desk?

*I didn't design it that way.  It just ended up being that way.