Things accomplished today:
Shopping for odds and ends for the bean's birthday party on Sunday. He'll be two tomorrow.
Washed floors
Ordered birthday cake
Did bathrooms
Did five loads of laundry
Wrote four pages
The day went by sooooooo fast. I can't even believe it.
Tomorrow I get my hair done in the a.m, then I have more running around to do.
Twitter Updates
Friday, February 26, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Why?
This is from Holly Lisle's Finding Your Themes:
Writing fiction is about telling stories . . . but what is telling stories about? When you tell someone a story, why are you doing this? What compels you to create lies that have about them the ring of truth; what drives you to invent people and places and events and create a context that pulls them all together and makes them seem real?
When you're creating fiction, at heart you are searching for ways to create order in the universe. You are digging into your core beliefs on how the world works, and running imaginary people through a trial universe built on these beliefs to see how both the people and the beliefs stand up under pressure. People who write fiction tend not to accept the world at face value -- in general, they are the people who always got in trouble when they were little for asking "Why?" one time too many about something that, to everyone else, seemed pretty obvious.
When you started writing fiction, you probably did so at about the same time that you discovered that not only did your parents not have all the answers to the universe, but neither did anybody else. You discovered that, if you wanted an answer to that still-nagging "Why?" you were going to have to find the answer yourself.
Writing fiction is the act of questioning the silent, unanswering infinite and demanding that the infinite cough up a reply . . . and hurry up about it, too. It is the ultimate defiance of that stock parental response, "Because I said so." Writing fiction is standing on the edge of the abyss of ignorance, looking across at the cliffs on the other side, and saying, "With nothing but words, I am going to build myself a bridge that takes me from here to there . . . and when I'm done, other people will be able to cross over that same bridge." It's an act of ultimate hubris, but of ultimate courage, too, because the abyss can eat you, and will if you slip.
So which bridges are worth building? You can't cover the whole abyss. You can run a thousand lines from one side to the other if you live long enough, and you won't even cast a shadow on the voracious ignorance that lies beneath. All you can do is span the darkness with your slender threads, and build them strong enough that people can traverse them, and make them interesting enough that people will take the risk.
Which bridges are worth risking life and limb and hope and soul to create? Only those that take you to someplace you have not yet been.
And how do you decide which bridges those might be? You ask yourself the following question: To what questions in life have I not yet found a satisfactory answer?
I don't know about the rest of you, but this is very true for me. I'm still asking "why?" in every story I write. I ask that question every day. I was the kid who forever asked "why?", and drove everyone nuts. The desire to know the answers to things is what makes me a research geek. It's what makes me so interested in hearing the stories of certain people. The reason I find some people so interesting.
What makes one person capable of horrible things and another willing to risk their own life for somebody else? What makes one person driven and another complacent?
I've always been interested in people who are extraordinary in some way. My first husband is an amazingly talented artist. My best friend since high school is highly intelligent and has a gift for healing emotionally wounded people.
My fella has an enormous heart and is extremely empathetic. He has the warmest eyes I've ever seen, and a smile to match. He has the sunniest disposition of anyone I know, and a fantastic sense of humor. He's smart as hell and intuitive, able to read people pretty quickly. He has an innate understand of how mechanical things work, a quality I'm happy to see in our son, as well.
What makes one person extraordinary in some way, and another ordinary in pretty much every way? What makes a basically good person slip over to the dark side? Or a pretty terrible person do something wonderful or heroic?
Some people have a shine to them. You know them when you meet them. Often you can even pick them out just on sight. They sparkle in some way. They have a unique presence. A special something which sets them apart. Is that shine something they were born with or something they developed later? I'm always facinated by that.
My stories always have questions I want answers to. Another question I find myself asking is "what if?"
But that's for another post. New playlist. It's a mish-mash.
Writing fiction is about telling stories . . . but what is telling stories about? When you tell someone a story, why are you doing this? What compels you to create lies that have about them the ring of truth; what drives you to invent people and places and events and create a context that pulls them all together and makes them seem real?
When you're creating fiction, at heart you are searching for ways to create order in the universe. You are digging into your core beliefs on how the world works, and running imaginary people through a trial universe built on these beliefs to see how both the people and the beliefs stand up under pressure. People who write fiction tend not to accept the world at face value -- in general, they are the people who always got in trouble when they were little for asking "Why?" one time too many about something that, to everyone else, seemed pretty obvious.
When you started writing fiction, you probably did so at about the same time that you discovered that not only did your parents not have all the answers to the universe, but neither did anybody else. You discovered that, if you wanted an answer to that still-nagging "Why?" you were going to have to find the answer yourself.
Writing fiction is the act of questioning the silent, unanswering infinite and demanding that the infinite cough up a reply . . . and hurry up about it, too. It is the ultimate defiance of that stock parental response, "Because I said so." Writing fiction is standing on the edge of the abyss of ignorance, looking across at the cliffs on the other side, and saying, "With nothing but words, I am going to build myself a bridge that takes me from here to there . . . and when I'm done, other people will be able to cross over that same bridge." It's an act of ultimate hubris, but of ultimate courage, too, because the abyss can eat you, and will if you slip.
So which bridges are worth building? You can't cover the whole abyss. You can run a thousand lines from one side to the other if you live long enough, and you won't even cast a shadow on the voracious ignorance that lies beneath. All you can do is span the darkness with your slender threads, and build them strong enough that people can traverse them, and make them interesting enough that people will take the risk.
Which bridges are worth risking life and limb and hope and soul to create? Only those that take you to someplace you have not yet been.
And how do you decide which bridges those might be? You ask yourself the following question: To what questions in life have I not yet found a satisfactory answer?
I don't know about the rest of you, but this is very true for me. I'm still asking "why?" in every story I write. I ask that question every day. I was the kid who forever asked "why?", and drove everyone nuts. The desire to know the answers to things is what makes me a research geek. It's what makes me so interested in hearing the stories of certain people. The reason I find some people so interesting.
What makes one person capable of horrible things and another willing to risk their own life for somebody else? What makes one person driven and another complacent?
I've always been interested in people who are extraordinary in some way. My first husband is an amazingly talented artist. My best friend since high school is highly intelligent and has a gift for healing emotionally wounded people.
My fella has an enormous heart and is extremely empathetic. He has the warmest eyes I've ever seen, and a smile to match. He has the sunniest disposition of anyone I know, and a fantastic sense of humor. He's smart as hell and intuitive, able to read people pretty quickly. He has an innate understand of how mechanical things work, a quality I'm happy to see in our son, as well.
What makes one person extraordinary in some way, and another ordinary in pretty much every way? What makes a basically good person slip over to the dark side? Or a pretty terrible person do something wonderful or heroic?
Some people have a shine to them. You know them when you meet them. Often you can even pick them out just on sight. They sparkle in some way. They have a unique presence. A special something which sets them apart. Is that shine something they were born with or something they developed later? I'm always facinated by that.
My stories always have questions I want answers to. Another question I find myself asking is "what if?"
But that's for another post. New playlist. It's a mish-mash.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Requests
Does anyone else have any requests for the playlist? I'll gladly add your song to the current playlist if you like.
Jeanie, no Sarah McLachlan! Your playlist is full of her songs and she makes me want to tear my eyes out. Too melancholy.
Jeanie, no Sarah McLachlan! Your playlist is full of her songs and she makes me want to tear my eyes out. Too melancholy.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Saturday Stuff
Banged out another 1,700 words between yesterday afternoon and today. Beauty. I hope this downhill part of the ride continues.
Had a rough time last night with the litte bean, who I'm trying to break of the binky habit. It's really only when he's sleepy that he needs it now. And he doesn't use it at the sitter's during naps anymore. But here at home he insists.
Thought I'd try not giving it to him to go to bed last night. Wow. He cried as if his heart were breaking for two hours in his crib. I sobbed silently in the kitchen off and on, hoping he'd eventually fall asleep. I can't stand being the cause of something that makes him feel so bad. It was really traumatizing for him to not have that binky, and traumatizing as hell for me to hear him crying so hard.
I tried bringing him out to watch a bit of tv with me. I tried singing. I tried hugs and tickles. That was all well and good until I tried putting him back in his crib without the binky.
Finally I gave in and gave it to him. I just couldn't do it. *Sigh* I don't know how I'm going to get him used to not having the binky during naps and at night.
And today he was jumping on the couch downstairs while daddy was watchiing him and fell, hitting his face on one of his toys. I heard him crying but didn't think it was anything to be alarmed about. Until Jeff carried him up, chin all barked up and bleeding, and Jeff sporting blood stains on his t-shirt.
It was a bit alarming. Yeah.
But he's fine. Just a bit banged up. It's a boy thing, I think. That's what Jeff says, anyway. It wasn't long before he was grinning and trying to jump on the couch again. He's a tough little critter.
So he needed the binky during nap time today.
He's going to be two next Saturday. I said that around his second birthday I'd take the binky away. I don't know if that's going to stick now.
Got lots to do before his party, and not much time to do it in. Weekends are next to impossible, so I'm taking next Friday off to do my cleaning and running around for the party.
I have waaaaaay too much to do.
Back to the writing while the critter sleeps.
Had a rough time last night with the litte bean, who I'm trying to break of the binky habit. It's really only when he's sleepy that he needs it now. And he doesn't use it at the sitter's during naps anymore. But here at home he insists.
Thought I'd try not giving it to him to go to bed last night. Wow. He cried as if his heart were breaking for two hours in his crib. I sobbed silently in the kitchen off and on, hoping he'd eventually fall asleep. I can't stand being the cause of something that makes him feel so bad. It was really traumatizing for him to not have that binky, and traumatizing as hell for me to hear him crying so hard.
I tried bringing him out to watch a bit of tv with me. I tried singing. I tried hugs and tickles. That was all well and good until I tried putting him back in his crib without the binky.
Finally I gave in and gave it to him. I just couldn't do it. *Sigh* I don't know how I'm going to get him used to not having the binky during naps and at night.
And today he was jumping on the couch downstairs while daddy was watchiing him and fell, hitting his face on one of his toys. I heard him crying but didn't think it was anything to be alarmed about. Until Jeff carried him up, chin all barked up and bleeding, and Jeff sporting blood stains on his t-shirt.
It was a bit alarming. Yeah.
But he's fine. Just a bit banged up. It's a boy thing, I think. That's what Jeff says, anyway. It wasn't long before he was grinning and trying to jump on the couch again. He's a tough little critter.
So he needed the binky during nap time today.
He's going to be two next Saturday. I said that around his second birthday I'd take the binky away. I don't know if that's going to stick now.
Got lots to do before his party, and not much time to do it in. Weekends are next to impossible, so I'm taking next Friday off to do my cleaning and running around for the party.
I have waaaaaay too much to do.
Back to the writing while the critter sleeps.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Woohoo!
Woohoo! A thousand words so far today on Frost. I'm shutting out all distractions with the help of my fella, who has taken my little guy downstairs to play. Hopefully he will nap for me today, and I can get another thousand down. The words are coming more easily for me today, but I have to push past the emotion that has been keeping me from getting them out.
Nothing is for free, especially when it comes to me and the writing. The muse will give me what I need, but I have to bleed for her first, it seems. It's an uneasy, disturbing pairing, as many of the most intense pairings are. You get was you most desire, but you lose something of yourself in the process.
I'm certain it isn't like this for every writer, but it is for me. Still, it's cathartic for me to get the story out, no matter how emotionally draining it is. And it's rewarding to be able to be able to finish a project. The more trying it is, the more rewarding it is when I finally finish.
I'm going through the darker stuff now, but Leah and Jack both have a good sense of humor, and they sparkle for me on the page. So the entire book won't be dark.
Working on another playlist. Cool Change is on there for you, John.
Nothing is for free, especially when it comes to me and the writing. The muse will give me what I need, but I have to bleed for her first, it seems. It's an uneasy, disturbing pairing, as many of the most intense pairings are. You get was you most desire, but you lose something of yourself in the process.
I'm certain it isn't like this for every writer, but it is for me. Still, it's cathartic for me to get the story out, no matter how emotionally draining it is. And it's rewarding to be able to be able to finish a project. The more trying it is, the more rewarding it is when I finally finish.
I'm going through the darker stuff now, but Leah and Jack both have a good sense of humor, and they sparkle for me on the page. So the entire book won't be dark.
Working on another playlist. Cool Change is on there for you, John.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
All that Shimmers
Somebody asked me a question about Repo Chick Blues today, and I couldn't remember the answer. I'm one of those writers who don't read their stuff after it's done. I see too many things that I would change and make better (or so I think). I could work on a story forever, constantly trying to make it better. I'd never be finished if I gave in to my obsessive drive to perfect and fix.
I think this might also be a reason why I'm struggling with finishing Frost. I have to go back and read it. I have to figure out where to insert the added scenes. Need to see what needs be be layered in here and there. Blah blah blah. Sometimes techincal is good. It's less emotional. But it's trudging through the emotional stuff to be able to do the technical stuff.
It's been a wild few months for me. Trying to not be distracted by outside factors is a struggle. There are shiny, sparkly things about, which draw my attention.
I'm trying. But the shimmery things are just so pretty. I'm worse than a kitten chasing the beam of a flashlight. *Sigh*
I love this song. Carl Bell, Fuel guitarist, wrote this song. I think this guy is an amazing lyricist.
Shimmer Lyrics
She calls me from the cold
Just when I was low, feeling short of stable
And all that she intends
And all she keeps inside, isn't on the label
She says she's ashamed
And she can take me for a while
And can I be a friend, we'll forget the past
But maybe I'm not able
And I break at the bend
We're here and now, but will we ever be again
'Cause I have found
All that shimmers in this world is sure to fade
Away again
She dreams a champagne dream
Strawberry surprise, pink linen and white paper
Lavender and cream
Fields of butterfliess, reality escapes her
She says that love is for fools that fall behind
And I'm somewhere in between
I never really know
A killer from a savior
'Til I break at the bend
We're here and now, but will we ever be again
'Cause I have found
All that shimmers in this world is sure to fade
Away again
It's too far away for me to hold
It's too far away....
Guess I'll let it go
I think this might also be a reason why I'm struggling with finishing Frost. I have to go back and read it. I have to figure out where to insert the added scenes. Need to see what needs be be layered in here and there. Blah blah blah. Sometimes techincal is good. It's less emotional. But it's trudging through the emotional stuff to be able to do the technical stuff.
It's been a wild few months for me. Trying to not be distracted by outside factors is a struggle. There are shiny, sparkly things about, which draw my attention.
I'm trying. But the shimmery things are just so pretty. I'm worse than a kitten chasing the beam of a flashlight. *Sigh*
I love this song. Carl Bell, Fuel guitarist, wrote this song. I think this guy is an amazing lyricist.
Shimmer Lyrics
She calls me from the cold
Just when I was low, feeling short of stable
And all that she intends
And all she keeps inside, isn't on the label
She says she's ashamed
And she can take me for a while
And can I be a friend, we'll forget the past
But maybe I'm not able
And I break at the bend
We're here and now, but will we ever be again
'Cause I have found
All that shimmers in this world is sure to fade
Away again
She dreams a champagne dream
Strawberry surprise, pink linen and white paper
Lavender and cream
Fields of butterfliess, reality escapes her
She says that love is for fools that fall behind
And I'm somewhere in between
I never really know
A killer from a savior
'Til I break at the bend
We're here and now, but will we ever be again
'Cause I have found
All that shimmers in this world is sure to fade
Away again
It's too far away for me to hold
It's too far away....
Guess I'll let it go
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
More Retro - The Corrs
Love this band. Out of Ireland. I once had this CD. Not sure what happened to it.
Monday, February 15, 2010
hmmmm
Anyone else experiencing blogger doubling words on you? This seems to be happening to me lately when I post and entry. A word will appear twice. Odd.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Serenity
Plugging away at Frost. Getting there slowly but surely. Had an excellent writing day yesterday, after a bit of a dry spell. Back on the horse, just have to push through the tough parts.
I've been feeing kind of untethered. Hectic and chaotic inside, and this morning I found the source of calm I'd almost forgotten I have. My fella is my the one person who can always bring me down from the edge. His easy, calm manner brings me tranquility when my spirit feels like a bird battering against a cage. He brings me back, and suddenly I can breathe again. He makes me feel safe. With life being so demanding and frantic, I haven't taken the time to appreciate this. I'm always running.
But this morning I awoke to the touch of gentle fingers brushing hair from my face, and opened my eyes to the smiling eyes of my fella. The house was quiet and the room held the dusky blue of the early morning half light, and I couldn't remember a more perfect moment of serenity and peace. We stayed like that for a good twenty minutes, just being together, not saying anything because we don't have to.
When his whispered, "I love you" broke the silence, I knew in my heart that there was no place I'd rather be and nobody I'd rather be with, because I believed him, and more importantly, because when I whispered those words back to him, I believed them.
Got a single red rose for Valentine's day, which is sitting in front of my laptop as I write this. I prefer a single rose to a dozen any day of the week. More romantic, and just means so much more.
My little guy smiled at me, wrapped his little arms around my legs and looked up at me, saying, "I yuv you mama." I've been so blessed.
Back to the grind. I hope everyone is having a good weekend.
I've been feeing kind of untethered. Hectic and chaotic inside, and this morning I found the source of calm I'd almost forgotten I have. My fella is my the one person who can always bring me down from the edge. His easy, calm manner brings me tranquility when my spirit feels like a bird battering against a cage. He brings me back, and suddenly I can breathe again. He makes me feel safe. With life being so demanding and frantic, I haven't taken the time to appreciate this. I'm always running.
But this morning I awoke to the touch of gentle fingers brushing hair from my face, and opened my eyes to the smiling eyes of my fella. The house was quiet and the room held the dusky blue of the early morning half light, and I couldn't remember a more perfect moment of serenity and peace. We stayed like that for a good twenty minutes, just being together, not saying anything because we don't have to.
When his whispered, "I love you" broke the silence, I knew in my heart that there was no place I'd rather be and nobody I'd rather be with, because I believed him, and more importantly, because when I whispered those words back to him, I believed them.
Got a single red rose for Valentine's day, which is sitting in front of my laptop as I write this. I prefer a single rose to a dozen any day of the week. More romantic, and just means so much more.
My little guy smiled at me, wrapped his little arms around my legs and looked up at me, saying, "I yuv you mama." I've been so blessed.
Back to the grind. I hope everyone is having a good weekend.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Dialogue Snippet
Heard a snippet of dialogue in my head today:
I wrote, telling him, "You're one of the coolest people I've ever known."
He thought it was a love note, when what I was really telling him was, thanks for the ride. This is my stop.
I wrote, telling him, "You're one of the coolest people I've ever known."
He thought it was a love note, when what I was really telling him was, thanks for the ride. This is my stop.
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
Laura's New Cover!
Laura's cover for Dark Oracle has been released! It's friggin' gorgeous! Woohoo Laura! I can't wait to read it!
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Thriller Fest
Oooh Aaaah. Thriller Fest. I am seriously considering this one. What's cool about this convention is that you can get a day pass and just go for one day if you like. You don't have to buy the entire kit and kaboodle. I can't see me wanting to hang out with umpteen people for more than a day anyway.
I'm jazzed. I'm talking myself into it. Hmmm. Yeah.
I'll leave you with an entry from Nathan Bransford. I love this guy. He is so positive. A refreshing change from much of what you see and read in the current publishing market. Or any market, really.
But he thinks change is good, and I think he's right.
In the comments section of his blog entries a woman named Marilyn Peake comments that Audrey Niffenegger, author of The Time Traveller's Wife, had her latest book, Her Fearful Symmetry go to auction and sell to Scribner for a nearly 5 million dollar advance. "She said that she loved the indie press that had published her debut book, but felt that, with only three employees, they wouldn’t be able to handle all that her new book would require."
No kiddin'.
But 5 million? Holy hell. I wouldn't know what to do with it. I'd probably stash all my cash in an account somewhere and just let it gather dust. Or shove the check under a mattress and forget about it. So much a creature of habit. I mean, 5 million? That's a lot of quid. You know? I have no idea what do with that kind of money. None.
Of course, the likelyhood that I'll ever have to worry about what to do with that much cash is pretty slim. So I guess I'm in the clear. Ha!
Okay, back to work. Two new scenes written. Several more to go.
I'm jazzed. I'm talking myself into it. Hmmm. Yeah.
I'll leave you with an entry from Nathan Bransford. I love this guy. He is so positive. A refreshing change from much of what you see and read in the current publishing market. Or any market, really.
But he thinks change is good, and I think he's right.
In the comments section of his blog entries a woman named Marilyn Peake comments that Audrey Niffenegger, author of The Time Traveller's Wife, had her latest book, Her Fearful Symmetry go to auction and sell to Scribner for a nearly 5 million dollar advance. "She said that she loved the indie press that had published her debut book, but felt that, with only three employees, they wouldn’t be able to handle all that her new book would require."
No kiddin'.
But 5 million? Holy hell. I wouldn't know what to do with it. I'd probably stash all my cash in an account somewhere and just let it gather dust. Or shove the check under a mattress and forget about it. So much a creature of habit. I mean, 5 million? That's a lot of quid. You know? I have no idea what do with that kind of money. None.
Of course, the likelyhood that I'll ever have to worry about what to do with that much cash is pretty slim. So I guess I'm in the clear. Ha!
Okay, back to work. Two new scenes written. Several more to go.
Saturday, February 06, 2010
Saturday Ramblings
Up early. Made chocolate banana muffins. Got the bean in for this swine flu shot. Went shopping. Got the bean a new green race car, as he is already obsessed with race cars. Got the bean a snack. Put the bean down for his nap. Got a load of laundry in.
Now I'm ready to get to the next part of the process for Frost. My process, anyway. Today is new scene writing day, and although the bathroom needs to be cleaned, I'm going to wait until later, because I have silence and space now, and later I won't.
Another theme song for A Sudden Frost. Playing it now. I couldn't embed the video into this entry because the embedding was removed, but here is the link.
So here I go.
Now I'm ready to get to the next part of the process for Frost. My process, anyway. Today is new scene writing day, and although the bathroom needs to be cleaned, I'm going to wait until later, because I have silence and space now, and later I won't.
Another theme song for A Sudden Frost. Playing it now. I couldn't embed the video into this entry because the embedding was removed, but here is the link.
So here I go.
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
SQEEEEEE!!!!!
From Publisher's lunch:
Mystery/Crime
Dennis Lehane's untitled Patrick & Angie mystery, the 6th and final Patrick & Angie novel, a sequel to "Gone Baby Gone", to Claire Wachtel for William Morrow, for publication in 2011, by Ann Rittenberg at Ann Rittenberg Literary Agency (NA).
Oh. My. GOD! I'm am so excited! Dennis Lehane said he would probably not write another Patrick/Angie book. I'm so happy he's writing this one. Sad, though, that this will be the final one. I really hope it won't be.
I love Dennis Lehane. I think he's friggin' amazing. Love. Him. I was at the World's Mystery Convention in Philidelphia a few years back, and he was up for an award, can't remember which one now, for Mystic River, which I'd just finished reading. Twice I turned around and he happened to be behind me. I would've loved for him to sign my copy, but I couldn't utter a word.
He looked at me. I looked at him, breath caught in my throat, heart racing. Then I turned and walked away, both times. It's what I do when I'm in the presence of somebody I idolize. I act like a total dork. It's my version of giggling and falling all over myself.
I intend to go to more writer's conventions in the future. Maybe I'll get another chance, and hopefully this time I won't freeze up if I see him again. I'll say, "Well, hello, Mr. Lehane. You are a God. Please sign my copy of (every book he's written that I own), thank you. This is me not acting like a dork. Or. . . not as much of a dork as the last time I saw you, which you of course wouldn't remember, as you are a God, with many adoring fans, of which I am just one. Yes, did I say this was me not acting like a dork?
I can't wait to get my hands on this one. Wow.
Mystery/Crime
Dennis Lehane's untitled Patrick & Angie mystery, the 6th and final Patrick & Angie novel, a sequel to "Gone Baby Gone", to Claire Wachtel for William Morrow, for publication in 2011, by Ann Rittenberg at Ann Rittenberg Literary Agency (NA).
Oh. My. GOD! I'm am so excited! Dennis Lehane said he would probably not write another Patrick/Angie book. I'm so happy he's writing this one. Sad, though, that this will be the final one. I really hope it won't be.
I love Dennis Lehane. I think he's friggin' amazing. Love. Him. I was at the World's Mystery Convention in Philidelphia a few years back, and he was up for an award, can't remember which one now, for Mystic River, which I'd just finished reading. Twice I turned around and he happened to be behind me. I would've loved for him to sign my copy, but I couldn't utter a word.
He looked at me. I looked at him, breath caught in my throat, heart racing. Then I turned and walked away, both times. It's what I do when I'm in the presence of somebody I idolize. I act like a total dork. It's my version of giggling and falling all over myself.
I intend to go to more writer's conventions in the future. Maybe I'll get another chance, and hopefully this time I won't freeze up if I see him again. I'll say, "Well, hello, Mr. Lehane. You are a God. Please sign my copy of (every book he's written that I own), thank you. This is me not acting like a dork. Or. . . not as much of a dork as the last time I saw you, which you of course wouldn't remember, as you are a God, with many adoring fans, of which I am just one. Yes, did I say this was me not acting like a dork?
I can't wait to get my hands on this one. Wow.
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Found My Stillness
Aaaah. The bean is down for the night. Did my work out at five a.m so that I could do the writing tonight. Not sure if I should swap that around, though. I have more energy and am more awake in the morning that I am at night. But we'll see.
So I have space and silence, and I'm seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, just there in the distance. And this is a good day, as in, it's an, 'hey, I don't suck' day for the writing. I'll take it, because it flip-flops.
I'm getting antsy to finish this one. I still have a ways to go, getting it all down, and then pretty and snappy, but I'm on my way. And to help deflect the downer part of finishing a book, I have The Collectors to work on. New Characters, though, so I'm discovering, which is fun, but also nerve-wracking because I don't know them well.
Okay, enough procrastinating. Time to get 'er done.
So I have space and silence, and I'm seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, just there in the distance. And this is a good day, as in, it's an, 'hey, I don't suck' day for the writing. I'll take it, because it flip-flops.
I'm getting antsy to finish this one. I still have a ways to go, getting it all down, and then pretty and snappy, but I'm on my way. And to help deflect the downer part of finishing a book, I have The Collectors to work on. New Characters, though, so I'm discovering, which is fun, but also nerve-wracking because I don't know them well.
Okay, enough procrastinating. Time to get 'er done.
Monday, February 01, 2010
The Newest
The newest from Amazon via Publisher's Lunch:
Dear Customers:
Macmillan, one of the "big six" publishers, has clearly communicated to us that, regardless of our viewpoint, they are committed to switching to an agency model and charging $12.99 to $14.99 for e-book versions of bestsellers and most hardcover releases.
We have expressed our strong disagreement and the seriousness of our disagreement by temporarily ceasing the sale of all Macmillan titles. We want you to know that ultimately, however, we will have to capitulate and accept Macmillan's terms because Macmillan has a monopoly over their own titles, and we will want to offer them to you even at prices we believe are needlessly high for e-books. Amazon customers will at that point decide for themselves whether they believe it's reasonable to pay $14.99 for a bestselling e-book. We don't believe that all of the major publishers will take the same route as Macmillan. And we know for sure that many independent presses and self-published authors will see this as an opportunity to provide attractively priced e-books as an alternative.
Kindle is a business for Amazon, and it is also a mission. We never expected it to be easy!
Thank you, Amazon. This is a reasonable compromise.
And now I can continue to lust after the Kindle, which I can't afford yet, but some day will be mine. Oh yes. It will be mine.
Dear Customers:
Macmillan, one of the "big six" publishers, has clearly communicated to us that, regardless of our viewpoint, they are committed to switching to an agency model and charging $12.99 to $14.99 for e-book versions of bestsellers and most hardcover releases.
We have expressed our strong disagreement and the seriousness of our disagreement by temporarily ceasing the sale of all Macmillan titles. We want you to know that ultimately, however, we will have to capitulate and accept Macmillan's terms because Macmillan has a monopoly over their own titles, and we will want to offer them to you even at prices we believe are needlessly high for e-books. Amazon customers will at that point decide for themselves whether they believe it's reasonable to pay $14.99 for a bestselling e-book. We don't believe that all of the major publishers will take the same route as Macmillan. And we know for sure that many independent presses and self-published authors will see this as an opportunity to provide attractively priced e-books as an alternative.
Kindle is a business for Amazon, and it is also a mission. We never expected it to be easy!
Thank you, Amazon. This is a reasonable compromise.
And now I can continue to lust after the Kindle, which I can't afford yet, but some day will be mine. Oh yes. It will be mine.
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