Getting Things Straight. Or at least, less curved.

I hate outlines. I have always hated outlines. When I was in high school, I had an English teacher who tried very hard to make me love outlines. It didn't work. She showed me an amazing array of different outline forms, from a list on a piece of paper, to index cards, to computer spreadsheets. I told her, "I just want to sit down and write the stupid paper!"

I approach my fiction writing in much the same way. I just want to write the stupid book! My plot's getting a little complex, though. Which is a good thing. It's not overly complex. You won't need a Ph.D. to read it, I promise. But it's getting branches, which, as I've said, is good. I'm finding that, between character back stories, plot lines and ideas I might want to explore but am not sure where they fit yet, I'm needing some kind of an outline.

Curses.

So, for now, it's more like a synopsis, actually. I'm writing, in paragraph form, what comes next. I'm adding ideas for dialogue, and words to convey the proper mood for the scene, so I don't forget that stuff. I add various flashes of brilliance either as I go along, or when I think of them later. This is the benefit to doing this type of thing on a computer, as opposed to writing it out. I'd have lines and arrows and bubbles and intersections all over the place.

Through the outline practice, I've discovered that I want to completely revamp the beginning of the story. Which is okay. One thing my subscription to Writer's Digest has taught me is that I shouldn't start that rewrite now. Just keep writing till I get to the end and THEN do the rewrite. And then do the edits. And then start sending out query letters to agents.

Agents.

I'm, apparently, very serious about this book thing, huh? I'm still flitting somewhere between a state of disbelief and an incredibly angry feeling of "It's about damn time." The other day, Mr. O referred to me as "a writer", and I nearly fell over dead.

Am I a writer? I guess so.

A writer who can't write a simple blog about ONE topic, but instead flies all over her psyche. Sorry about that.

Just who is writing this thing, anyway?

I've been at my desk for almost two hours and all I have to show for it is a new picture on Facebook, a tweet promising pages today, and a headache.

I'm having a hard time getting into two characters' heads. Okay, maybe three, but one is a minor character, and so I don't think I'll need to get too far into his head. He's going to die soon, anyway. Because I'm mean. Well, no, because it's what happens. I didn't think I wanted it to happen, I'm still not sure I want it to happen, but it's going to.

Weirdness. How is it that a story can branch off into directions I'd never even considered when I started it? I guess it happens frequently, as evidenced by a past blog of mine. I could link to it, but you'll see it if you scroll down, no doubt. It wasn't that long ago.

There are actually a few things going on in the story right now that I hadn't anticipated. It makes me wonder about the creative process. Writers talk about their muses and I always thought it was hooey, till I started to write seriously. I don't think I'm writing this book as much as I'm facilitating it.

Of course, I'm not even doing that much by working on a blog instead of working on the book. So, I'm off. Again.

I'm really pretty blessed to be able to work from home, and to work for this pretty awesome boss. He's so cool, I married him. Okay, well, he wasn't my boss when I married him; we started the company a few months after our wedding. But, the upshot is, I get to lock myself away in my attic office to "work" several times a week, and as long as I get done the things I need to get done for our business, however I spend the rest of my time is mine.

That's great on normal days, because I can generally fly through most of the stuff I have to get done on a daily basis and then spend my afternoon chatting with my muse. However, we're hitting an incredibly busy patch for me here. This isn't normally a busy time, in fact, it's usually just settling in for our long, unbusy winter. But, we're in this big transitory phase that is entailing a lot of extra work for me, and that pretty much sucks.

It sucks for lots of reasons, but the biggest one is because I haven't even looked at my book in over a week. Sigh.

I was thinking about this a lot last night, since my girls both fell asleep pretty much of their own volition, and I had a small chunk of evening to myself. I ended up cleaning the living room with the TV playing The Biggest Loser in the background. I was intimidated by the thought of trying to find my place and pick up where I'd left off.

I think I'm afraid that my muse may have gotten bored and taken off in search of a more fertile work place.

Then, this morning, I read some of Laurell K. Hamilton's tweets regarding this very issue. She, like me, has a child and can't do "the distracted artist" thing anymore. I never really did get to do that, come to think of it. I've never taken my writing seriously enough to even consider it art, never mind think that I could do anything with it.

Now that I am taking all of this more seriously, I really wish I could take a weekend or two to get the kids out of the house and have a chance to play the distracted artist, forgetting to eat, staying up till 3am because the muse is clicking away on my keyboard, only remembering to feed the dog when he deposits his food dish in my lap at the computer.

And, you know, maybe one of these days, I will get to do that. And I'll probably hate it, anyway, because that's my personality for you; always wanting what I can't have. But, it's not happening right now. The Monster is too little to really go anywhere overnight without Mommy. And Mr. O's business needs me pretty desperately right now, so even on the rare occasion that he takes them somewhere without me (He brought them to his parents' house on Sunday, in fact), I end up doing work for his business (While they were at his parents', I got a direct mail piece stuffed, sealed, and addressed. There were a thousand pieces. It took allllll day.), or cleaning my sadly neglected home.

I need a personal assistant (which was the upshot of Ms. Hamilton's tweets, what would she do without her PA?), but the closest thing I've got to a PA lives all the way in Wisconsin. Of course, she is pretty amazing, with the amount of help she's able to give me from all the way in Wisconsin ;)

Thanks, Sherry :)

It's aliiiiiiiive!!

I'm at a place in my book (finally) where I know these people I'm writing about, where I'm all wrapped up in their lives and I can't wait to see what happens next. I want the girl to fall in love with the boy (although the boy is being pissy right at this second.), I want the good guys to win, and I want everyone to end up eating a pint of Ben and Jerry's around the kitchen table.

That's not the way my book is going to end, don't worry.

When I read a book, I often find myself thinking about the characters during my day to day stuff. I'll wonder what Anita and Jean Claude are up to while I'm bathing The Monster. Or I'll think of something absolutely hysterical that Lula said to Stephanie while going through lessons with The Princess. Point is, I become invested in these characters, and can't wait to spend more time with them..when I have the time.

My own book is starting to be like that for me, and that makes me excited for a couple reasons. First, I think it means my characters are "real". Second, it makes the writing go much smoother and quicker. And third, well, come on, I'm just digging the hell out of this entire process.

I've read writer's blogs and interviews where the author in question says something about her character like it's a real person. Like, "Who knows what Lestat will do next?" And I've always thought, "Well, duh, Ann, YOU should know, he lives in YOUR head." But, you know, I'm starting to understand that these characters, if you build them right, really do take on a bit of a mind of their own.

It's amazing to me that I'm having trouble with a character because he's being pissy. He kissed a girl, and then is giving her the cold shoulder. There's obviously more backstory there, that he hasn't given up to me just yet. I need to figure out what it is, before my protagonist can confront him about it.

Well, while my Monster and my Princess are sleeping, I'm going to go get my thumb drive and see if I can't unearth his issues. And I hope they're not bad enough that I need to write in a shrink.

What happens to a night owl when forced to work during the day

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My muse is a night owl

She woke me up at 1:30am, with the undeniable urge to pee. I finally disengaged my limbs from around my toddler, husband and dog by about 2am and hit the potty. Post potty, I didn't feel like trying to rearrange myself around all those people in my bed again, so I came here. I posted a blog about how frustrated I've been, as I'm sure you read sometime today.

Then, I sat in my green chair and brooded.

I may have even pouted.

And then it happened; an epiphany! Lightening struck my brain! (That's from "Hook") I pulled out my notebook, and my printed manuscript and started making notes, and crossing things out like a mad woman. I highlighted things, I wrote under words and over paragraphs, and about an hour after I had originally gotten out of bed, I got myself back in, with a smile on my face, a song on my heart and a plot in my head...and on paper.

Got some great rewrites done today. There are some scenes that are going to have to come out that I am going to miss, but I may be able to factor them in somewhere else in the future. For now I am grateful that my muse came and visited me last night.

I would like to request that future shots of inspiration take place around noon or so, though. I mean, it would just be a little more convenient for me. There would be a lot less eye rubbing and yawning, at any rate.

Conflicting Thoughts...

I'm getting frustrated with my lack of knowledge about my own book. If someone asked me what it's about, I might not know what to tell them. That's because I've got all these little details figured out, and even some awesome scenes written (in order, no less), but I have no idea what the big major issue is.

It's like I'm planning a dinner, and I know what each side dish is, I know what all the spices I'm going to use are. I have the appetizer and even the dessert all planned out. I even have a killer sauce for the meat. But I have no idea what the meat is.

Am I writing chicken? Or beef? Pork? Lamb? Or maybe there is no meat. Maybe this is a vegetarian dish to simply introduce characters and setting, to set the stage for a really good plot, just in a future book.

Well, if that's the case, we have issues. I mean, first of all, who wants to read a book with no conflict? Aside from man vs himself, which is hard to fill an entire book with. Also, who's to say that this book will sell any sequels.

Well, anyway, this blog wasn't intended to be about what's going to happen after the book is published (If this book ever even sees a publisher's desk. At this point, it's looking quite possible that it'll never even see the light of day), but rather, about this problem of me feeling that it isn't enough.

I'm seeking a major conflict, and it's never far from my mind. Which explains why my day to day life has been filled with conflict lately. Conflict with my husband, conflict with my kids, conflict with friends....my subconscious has been actively looking for a conflict worthy of my book, and has been picking fights with everyone on its quest.

Stupid subconscious.