So, anyway, Scrivener has won me over. I like Kings Soft Writer a lot, but the files for each chapter are all separate. It didn’t make a difference to me in some ways, because hey, you can call them all up anyway, but I like the compact nature of Scrivener. I have it installed on a USB drive, so I can take it to work and write during lunch and home to write there, too.
I also use Liquid Story Binder, but that’s primarily to collect data from the series into one place. Yeah, lucky I got them discounted from doing Nanowrimo! It also fits on a USB, but I find…I need simplicity. Trying to write in LSB was too much for me somehow, I don’t know why. Maybe I did not try hard enough.
Anyway. I was working slowly on the sequel (Chocolatier’s Ghost) and not getting anywhere, so to amuse myself (hell, I wasn’t getting any writing done) I separated the Word file into Chapters and color coded them. Dark blue is a chapter from William’s POV. Pink is Tasmin’s. Why pink? Because I wanted a watery red, because Tasmin wears red a lot in my head. William, well, he wears Naval blue. This is great because, as you can see, there is a lot of re-arranging of chapters to do so the story flows evenly between William and Tasmin. There are also chapters from other POV’s…and I have to decide how to handle those. I don’t want too many POV’s, it would make the flow less smooth and the story too cluttered. So, ideally it should be Tas, Will, Tas, Will, someone else, Tas, Will…etc. So, there you go. The “chapter titles” running along side are not spoilers, or even set. The titles are so I can find the scene I need quickly, and will be changed.
I am also trying to decide about letters between the chapters. They need to have a purpose if I do them…early in the story I introduce two very separate mysteries, and only one I intend to solve in this book, but it would be clever to run the secondary mystery along the chapter beginnings, through letters. *squints at story thoughtfully* But I don’t know. Probably not.
So, to warm up my writing mind, I’ll post here a bit. Also, I am avoiding Facebook because the football trademark thingy is gonna blow up bad.
Finally, Netflix was able to send me the first Disc of The Hollow Crown. I had watched…bought, actually, the Joss Whedon version of Much Ado About Nothing, because that’s my favorite Shakespeare Comedy and because I thought it would be fun…Whedon reminds me of John Wayne, because my father used to say, “When the Duke works, everybody works!” because the actors would over lap so much.
I…couldn’t watch it. I was bored to death. I couldn’t believe it, this was JOSS WHEDON. I love EVERYTHING he does. Buffy. Dr. Horrible. Firefly. Etc.
So, I thought, maybe my Shakespeare is broken. Both thoughts made me quite unaccountably sad.
When Richard II arrived yesterday, I was both excited (I heard good things) and worried. But I didn’t have to be…Ben Whishaw was amazing as Richard, sometimes mad, sometimes regal, even a little ethereal, though that is balance out by his baseness. The sets were wondrous, the costumes inspiring and James Purefoy was beautiful even if he was only on the screen for all of five minutes.
See? Isn’t he purty?
I am eagerly looking forward to the rest of the cycle…the most important thing for me, about the show was that…some shows come off as people spouting pretty words. In this movie, the pretty words that the Bard composed actually sound like real world dialogue, which made it really a wonderful experience for me. Shakespear’s work should sound like real words people would say. Just really prettily put.
What else, what else? Put together out little outside sitting area. Broke my chain saw cutting on a holly…it just stopped, which is weird, because it had all the gas and oil it needed and etc, and it’s only what? A month or two old?
The big project that I keep putting off is the blacksmith shop. Its now a large, empty space (mostly) and if I replaced the bad wood it would be a nice safe space to store stuff I don’t want to store in the house. And I go, and I look at it, and I think, This might just slightly be beyond me, and I walk out of the building.
And I remind myself, nibble away. Just nibble away. It doesn’t have to look nice…I already know the job is going to look like crap because I just want it done (totally using any old tin I can find for the walls) it just has to be secure enough for me to store stuff.
I am back from my two week road trip, but still suffering from that odd heaviness, the surreal feeling of not quite being there that always accompanies long vacations.
The coolest name I encountered was Bat Cave…I think it was in North Carolina. I also liked Luck, which was near Trust.
The coolest hotel device: the pancake maker. Waffle irons, any traveller will (probably) tell you, are owned by the Devil, and are possessed by little evil spirits. This is why the pancake maker I encountered was the bomb. You put your plate down at one end, press a button, and in a couple of minutes two perfect pancakes will fall down onto it. No guessing. No trying not to burn yourself as you peel your waffle out of the iron. Just two lovely, happy rounds of pancakey goodness.
Best beach: Sanibel island was AMAZING. I am also fond of Flagler, because the pulverized shells made the sand golden instead of white.
Best tourist trap: Monkey Jungle. I fed monkeys and marveled at their tiny, dark little fingers, and felt very happy. I also thought Flamingo Gardens was rather pretty.
Also, if you ever go to Florida, go to the Springs. Homosassa, anywhere. Springs are really pretty…the water is so, so very blue…and a nice contrast to the beach. If you go to Homosassa you will even see manatees…they have two all the time, but in the winter they have tons, apparently.
The thing I learned that made me happiest: Swimming with a straw hat is the best. Thing. Ever. Yes, you look like a weirdo, especially if you are also wearing a tee-shirt (I put one on after awhile because I felt burned) but you can SEE, and it’s like carrying around shade into the ocean. I might have lost cool points in the eyes of those around me, but I felt like the experience was totally worth it.
So, this week I edited the first draft of The Chocolatier’s Ghost and now know where I need to go and fix. Lots of work…this second draft will probably (hopefully) double my word count, because I fell into the rush, rush, rush trap.
I finally updated my Authorgraph Widget on my webpage so that people can, if they want, get any of my eBooks signed. I’ve never done it before…anyone want to be patient zero for me? *tries to look charming*
I like the idea…any idea…of connecting with readers because I am extremely fond of my readers. If I can find a way to make them happy I will.
Anyway, if you care to, take a look, and get your book signed! I’ll even try and come up with something clever to say! WOOT!
Not a very exciting day, really…but a weird one.
It started when I woke up this morning. I screamed, apparently…my mother, in the next room, came running to see what happened. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
I looked at her blankly. “I…why are you up?”
She explained to me that I had screamed…I looked at her, shrugged. “Bad dream, I guess?” But on my arm, my left arm, where the skin is pale and soft, something had scratched me, once, the single red line jarring somehow. What had I scratched myself on? Maybe I did it, in my sleep?
The day has been surreal every since. I dropped files…I don’t know why, I was standing in the office one moment, the next I was looking at scattered papers on the floor. Outlook told me that I had a meeting in ten minutes, I nodded, hit snooze by accident, then turned to prepare…and when I looked back, Outlook told me that I was ten minutes overdue. Ten. How did I lose ten minutes turning around to get my purse?
But it’s the hash marks…or tally marks? That throw me. The blossom on my arms like a garden of madness. Lines in groups of five, made with sharpies, highlighters, blue pens, red pens, black. It’s as if I grabbed whatever was at hand and marked my skin.
It’s weird, and every time I see another one, I get a little more frightned. I feel like someone is standing right behind my shoulder, staring at everything I do. Even now, as I type this, about my day, I feel like I’m being watched. My shoulders go back, as if invisible fingers are on my spine.
But I know it’s not. There is no monster in the shadow behind my shoulder.
No one is staring at me, quiet, patient, and hateful.
A red pen is in my hand, and I don’t know why. But there are three marks across my knuckles now.
It must be something important, it must mean something?
But it is the end of the semester, and you know, trying to get everything tied up before graduation can be very stressful. It’s probably just that, some manifestation of some inner need.
Just through my door, I can see a student, raising her hands to her face, marks all across her hands. She’s crying, and she’s frightened, and I know I should get up and see what she’s staring at, but something weighs me down into my chair, the weight of my own fear is too strong.
And then ohgodi cansee.mmust truy hitsendnwithoutloo kin the silence is here
For the past few weeks, I’ve been doing the edits for the final draft of Wishes and Sorrows.
For me, doing edits is a several step process.
First, you download the file and read through the comments. Wince. A lot. Say things like, “UGH.” And “Oh, but I thought that was clear.” Hate life a little.
Then close the file. I do this to get the whine fest over quicker. In all seriousness, it is painful to see edits, but also good…I trust my editors. They always make the stuff better…if they don’t get something, or if something doesn’t work for them, it won’t work for you, either. And I want it to work for you. I want anyone who is kind enough to read my stuff to be happy.
Then, after a few days (or more than a few…I got a hideous cold that slowed things down a ton) I sit down and start.
Awhile back I was reading a collection of short stories and Neil Gaiman said that he hadn’t edited a couple stories too much out of respect for the author he had been, even if he wasn’t as polished. That’s paraphrasing, and at the time I thought it was a really sweet idea. I get that, and like that…the idea of honoring the writer you were.
I did not do this. BOY did I edit some of the older stories. The writer I was when the oldest of the stories was written was much different. She in or fresh out of University, and she had a much more literary tradition in her veins, which meant her stories were sometimes purposefully unclear, or the voice was a certain way.
The writer I am now is not a less intelligent writer…when I say literary I am not speaking about intelligence or being snarky, rather…there is a training you receive in universities that makes your writing very different. But over the years I’ve found out what a general reader, rather than a university professor, wants. I’ve become more polished, I’ve become better, more experienced. So I needed to use that knowledge to make my stories better.
And my editor’s comments ended up being very useful. As always, I’m grateful for the second set of eyes.
I have been doing a lot of writing. The short story collection is being edited…I needed to do some pretty good edits to one of the new stories, which is only to be expected. Almost done with those, and when I turn that in, I will turn my attention to *three* pieces of documentation for Ice Dragon, (where I am entering an arts and science competition) and then, maybe, I will get to work on the second draft of the Chocolatier’s Ghost.
So, I am working, just sloooooooowly. I am like, geeze, can’t I get more done in a day, please?
Now that spring is coming, I keep wanting to travel. Last year we went all the way across the United states…and I keep seeing those places on my Facebook, Crater Lake posting pictures of things, the Grand Canyon, and I’m like…I was there. I want to go there again. So much beauty in the world.
I have a terrible weakness for kitchen things. I refuse to go into outlet stores that offer kitchen things because I know it’s a waste of time and money…I don’t need those trinkets that promise easier preparation or whatever…because, simply put, I despise cooking. Well, maybe not despise…sometimes I’ll find myself cooking and actually be enjoying myself, but in general, it’s sort of one of those things that I do because if I don’t I will be miserable.
But, I am at my happiest, cooking wise, when I am doing cooking in such a way as to be super effieicent, like making two dinners at once once, or lunch for a week.
Which leads to…I’ve always liked salad but it seems like an awful lot of work for something that sort of goes bad quickly. But after looking around Pinterest, I figured out how to have salad four two people for four-to-five days.
You need either a salad spinner, a colander and a bowl that it can mostly sit in, or this dashing Prepworks container:
I admit, when I realized that the salad thingy worked, and would be a part of my life, I gave into my kitchen buying urge and got one. Of both sizes. And the berry one. Don’t judge. (For what it’s worth, I really do think they work nicely. And mine are nice and brightly colored. And they tell you if it’s something that needs air or water.)
Then I break the first rule of being a super healthy and morally perfect human being: I buy salad in a bag. I love salad in a bag. I throw it in my spinner and scrub it up clean, and then I have a bowl full of variety that I did not have to cut up myself. In the long run, if you are someone who does not overly love to cook, it actually saves money because you don’t have stuff rotting away in the back of the crisper drawer. I have been that person.
So I pick a couple of bags of salad, and then I enhance. Like, Spring mix gets paired up with dried cranberries, feta, sliced almonds and these small, sweet little mandarin oranges. Or I get an iceberg mix and add tomatoes, a pretty colored pepper, some cucumber.
I have found that:
1. Always use a small, compact tomato. Something you don’t have to cut open.
2. Layer things. Things store better in layers.
3. Keep things that may get gross…like cheese…separate. I call these add-ins, and I prepare them separately. Like, for the one salad, I put the dried cranberries, almonds, and feta in it’s own little box. I am a recovering hoarder, so I have lots of them…old tea-tins, butter cups, etc. And of course the small plastic boxes that I have in and bought because they were cheap and could be useful.
I love it, actually, which is why I’m posting about it. Because in no time at all I have salad for the week, for me and mum, and if you are careful to spin it well, but add a tiny bit of water where it won’t touch anything to help keep it from drying out it will be nearly perfect at the end of the week.
And, what’s also cool, is that I don’t have to decide what I’m going to eat from day to day. Because to be honest, I don’t care what I eat for lunch.
And then, I usually prepare a crock pot meal for the next day’s dinner…so I start off my evening feeling somewhat productive and vaguely morally superior to myself.
And yes, I write this post instead of working on the book.
Do you have any favorite salads?
So, the good news: Finished the first draft of The Chocolatier’s Ghost!
The bad news…it’s like, way too short.
That’s OK. There’s a lot going on in the book…trying to lay two stories down, the main story, and the sequel-set up. There’s a lot of work to do, now that I know what happened. Set up scenes. Flesh out scenes. Scenes where I weave in other things besides the mystery…we sort of pound our way from point a to point b.
So, the skeleton draft is done. Hooray!
Now, the second draft will be all organs and muscle. Less hooray? I’ll be printing it out and marking it up…I need to actually read it in paper and scribble notes on it.
I’m also working on the edits for the short story collection, so lots of excitement in the author part of my life.
The other night I read an interview with Cary Elwes where he asked William Goldman, the author of the Princess Bride, about the sequel to the book. Innocent enough, if *I* had played a well beloved character in a well beloved movie I, too, would be curious about what was up for me in the sequel, even if I felt I would not be able to play it.
And William confessed that he was blocked by his anxiousness. That he couldn’t write the sequel because his fear of not doing well by the story paralyzed him.
And I was like, “Oh my goodness! I know this! I get this! OMFG!” Because I do. It’s taken me forever to finish anything after The Chocolatier’s Wife because I am so scared that nothing will be as good.
But it will be. I am a — forgive the hubris, please — really good writer. People really love my books. So, confidence, straighten shoulders, move forward.
What else am I up to?
Well, I am embroidering, and planning a couple of summer dresses.
I have a lovely green with peachy-pink roses fabric that would look very sweet with this:
It’s Vogue V2902…I absolutely attacked a JoAnne sale and bought a bunch of patterns very cheaply.
The second is a McCall pattern, M6745
I might go for a less halter looking top, because I do tend to burn…though I really like how this looks, and since I have an hour-glass-ish figure, I can pretty much carry off both dresses.
I read an article not too long ago suggesting horse-hair braid along the hem to give it a little body without the can-can underskirt, and I’m all for that because I don’t really want to wear anything else.
So, I wanted to join Bloglovin’, it looks like a great way to keep track of blogs.
So, entering the code:
Follow my blog with Bloglovin
Now. The weather has me down. I’m creeping along on the book…right now I’m sort of calling it The Chocolatier’s Ghost — but between the weather and work being particularly busy (I’m dead by the time I get home) my word count is like, a few hundred words here, a couple there. But I have a feeling of where I’m going, so I am confident that I’ll start racking up the words soon.
It would be so much easier if I’d won the lottery last week…I’d be home now, drinking tea and comfortably contemplating Tasmin and William’s world from my recliner and fuzzy blanket pile.