How I changed The Future by writing about The Past

Well, hello there. *sizes you up in a marginally creepy, yet obviously inept and comedic fashion*

I had so many plans for this post over the last few days, but finally decided that if I posted everything that was squishing around in my brain, it would be linked to in the dictionary definition of tl:dr. So I might someday blog some of that other squish as part of an Untweetworthy, or a new segment I've been considering entitled something clever like "RANTY PANTS" or "I LIKE TO YELL SOMETIMES, AND HERE'S WHY." I'm still thinking that one over.

For now, I want to post something about writing. Specifically, about what I am writing right now, and how I've shocked and confused myself about half a dozen times this week by the unfolding events. If you are not interested in my writing posts and only show up here hoping to point and laugh at my life, then please to be enjoying this gif of a baby turtle who thinks he can fly. I promise I'll make it up to you soon.

If you're still with me, then thank you! I will try to make this as entertaining and free of angst as possible. Like everything to do with writing, there is a dollop of angst, though, so please bear with me. I will reward you at the end.

When I set out to write what is essentially my main character's origin story, I was extremely excited. I mean, I'd already written THREE novels about her (one done and ready, one half way through edits, and one in first-draft-rough-as-hell form). I've had a year and a half to think about her, her history, her life, where she was born, and the events that made her into the person (well, shapeshifting dragon, but she thinks of herself as a person) she is today. WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE EASIER?!

Performing an appendectomy on myself with a rusty spoon would probably be easier, and possibly less painful.

You may think I am crazy. You'd be right, but that's beside the point. If I already know everything that happens in her long history, all I have to do is write it all down, right? It's like writing from the most complete outline ever! True, but writing something about a character that already exists (at least for me, I feel like she's a real person{DON'T JUDGE ME, I KNOW YOU DO THIS, TOO}), writing about the events that shape her into the person she becomes, feels like time travel. PAGING THE DOCTOR, CAN YOU PRESCRIBE SOMETHING FOR THE WIBBLY-WOBBLIES?

Time travel creates paradoxes. If you go to the past, you could potentially change history and warp events in such a way that you'd never been born. So then how could you have traveled back in time in the first place? Then those events that prevented your birth would never have happened, and you would've been born, then traveled back in time preventing your birth... and so on, ad nauseum. Paradox.

Writing this prequel (tentatively titled TORN), I've had a chance to travel back into the distant past and tinker with things. I've been able to flesh out details I'd only considered in passing before. Sometimes that fleshing out has created weird lumps and loops that I never saw coming. Some of them will change details of the "later" novels I've already written. Nothing big, nothing earth-shattering, but a few personal relationships will be different, and so will some of the magic. I can handle that. It will make her a stronger character in the long run. It will also give more history to a few other important characters. Always good.

The real problems hit me last night and this morning. Here they are in better detail:

1. Every novel I've written to this point (this will be my sixth complete novel) has clocked in around 100k words. When I started writing TORN, I assumed it would fit into the same mold. It doesn't. It's sitting at about 65k right now, and is at least 3/4 done.  All told, it will probably land right about 80k. Revisions probably won't change that total much. When I realized this last night, I had a near panic attack. THIS IS FANTASY. FANTASY NEEDS TO BE LONGER. Then I calmed down. Nope. Fantasy doesn't need to be longer. It needs to be exactly how long the story requires it to be. This story needs to be about 80k. I am okay with that now.

2. I was weirded out to discover that, despite the rest of the books in this series being firmly in the Adult Urban Fantasy genre, this one is probably closer to NA. So thank the elements that NA is an Official Thing now, at least according to Publisher's Marketplace. So, phew! What makes this NA as opposed to Adult? Well, it's an origin story. It takes place at a pivotal moment in the MC's life, where she has her first taste of what it means to be an adult. She has to spread her wings and fly on her own. Literally even, since she's a dragon, and has actual wings, and flies. :D

3. I told Helper Monkey about the Word Count Panic Attack this morning. As is my wont, my innocent remark led to a 10 minute babble session, during which I continued talking at the poor man until I realized what was really bugging me. I found a different kind of time travel paradox. Since I know this character and her world so well, is TORN a full enough novel to relate to for a reader who has never read the other books? Is it so short because it doesn't need to be longer in my mind, even though a new reader would be left scratching their head? I guess the only way to find out is to finish writing it, and then let someone read it. No reason to get all angsty about it until then, right? *nervous laughter*

So there you go. My weekly writing dilemmas.

If you're still reading at this point, I can only imagine you are also a writer, or just curious about writing. How ya doing? What are you writing, and what sort of ledges have you had to talk yourself down off of recently? All writing involves walking precariously close to the edges of cliffs. As long as you don't fall off, everything else can be edited. :D

And your reward for sticking through this with me? Here you go:

Admitting to being a writer.

I considered titling this "Confessing to being a writer," but I think "admitting" is better. I'm not ashamed of writing, but telling other people how I spend my days invites a series of inquiries that I find horribly frustrating. After telling a few folks last night that I'm a writer, I found myself delivering the inevitable lecture about the realities of writing and publishing. I bet all the writers reading this are nodding their heads right now.

If you're not a writer, or are new to writing, here are a few informational pointers. This is intended in the spirit of loving human compassion, so I apologize in advance if parts (or vast swaths) seem to be coming from a place of snarkiness. I will keep reminding myself that not only is this information not generally known to the non-publishing public, most of this info was completely unknown to me until I'd written my first novel and began researching how to get published, just under two years ago.

The first question I get when I tell people I'm a writer (because I am, I write things, like whole book length things, 100k word novels) is invariably some variation on this sentiment: OH! WHAT HAVE YOU WRITTEN? HAVE I READ IT? WHERE CAN I BUY IT RIGHT NOW? HOW MANY BOOKS HAVE YOU SOLD?

My response at this point is usually to turn red, stutter, and admit I've never sold a single book. This is the hardest admission for a writer, because the other person, who moments ago was all eager like a puppy with a new toy, will slump back and instantly lose about 90% of their interest in you. I mean, why wouldn't they lose interest? A second ago, at least in their minds, you were a Big Time Author, and now you're just a kook who writes stuff. A loser. At least, that's how it feels sometimes. And then I remind myself that they're only responding with disappointment because they don't know what it actually takes to write, edit, find an agent, find a publisher, edit some more, and then publish a successful novel.

After my admission, a common follow-up question is: OH, THEN HAVE YOU EVEN WRITTEN A WHOLE BOOK YET?! Because obviously, if I'd gone ahead and FINISHED a book, it would've been published by now. Riiiiight.

Again, my reply makes me feel even smaller. I have to tell them that I've written five complete novels, and I'm working on a sixth. For me, this is the most terrifying, horrifying thing to admit to anyone outside the writing and publishing world. I can see the pity filling their eyes. I just know they're thinking, "Oh, your poor, sad little creature. FIVE WHOLE NOVELS SO SPECTACULARLY BAD YOU'VE FAILED TO SELL A SINGLE COPY OF A BOOK EVER." I then imagine them patting my head like a three-year-old who just admitted in public, repeatedly, in a very loud voice, usually in mixed company, that they made poo poo in the toilet. Yeah. That's kind of how it feels.

And then I feel I have to justify myself. More on this in a moment. But first, I usually give a little lecture about the Realities of Publishing. You may find these tidbits comforting next time you find yourself in this situation, on either side of this little drama (as the writer or as the non-writer).

• Just because you've written a WONDERFUL, GLORIOUS NOVEL doesn't mean it gets published and hits the NYT bestseller list by the following Monday. Even the most famous writers have to wait for their publication window to roll around. It can take years. Literally.
• You don't just write that MASTERPIECE OF LITACHER and then pick an agent out of the phone book to represent you. You don't hire an agent like you'd hire an employee. It's a weird hybrid sort of position, where you kind of hire each other. You apply to agents like someone seeking a job, send a resume (in publishing this is known as a query letter) that details your book and a bit about you. Then the agent reads your stuff, and decides whether or not they want you as a client. After a little back and forth, it's still up to you whether or not you want to hire the agent.
• There are 46 bazillion writers in the universe. (*note: this might be a slight exaggeration, but probably not) A fair portion of them are seeking representation through an agent. There are only a few thousand literary agents, and substantially fewer who even represent the genre any given writer...writes. There is a lot of competition. It's also not a quick process. It can take months between finishing the novel, querying, and hearing back from agents who are interested. This is also the worst time to field questions from people about how your writing is going. We feel adrift at sea already, and need to be peeled off the ceiling every time the phone rings or the email alert chimes. This is when those withering looks of pity and assumptions of our failures sting the most.
• There are sometimes questions about why I haven't gone ahead and self-published by now. I mean, really. It's so easy nowadays, right? Just stick it up on Amazon or the like, and BOOM. Instant bestseller, right? Not exactly. There are thousands of self-published books being released into the universe every single day. Unless I have the time, money, and resources to spend marketing and promoting my book (which would be as much work as a full-time job, by the way), then it would likely sell a few copies to my friends and then fizzle out of existence. I want to make writing a life-long career. The goal isn't to produce a single novel that dies in obscurity just to see my name in print. I'm in no hurry. While self-pub might be the perfect option for someone else, I would be a total failure at it. I just don't have the business-marketing-promotional skills.
• The people who ask these questions are not deliberately trying to be hurtful. They just don't know what goes into writing and publishing a successful novel. Be kind, and educate them a bit. They might turn out to be your most ardent supporters down the line!

Okay, then. Back to my justification. Five novels and not one sold? Wow, you must be a terrible writer.

No, not really, but the first two were my "practice novels," written before I learned anything about the realities of the book market. They taught me how to be a better writer. I never sought publication for them. Maybe someday, after they've been completely rewritten, but for now they live under my bed, where the world is safe from them.

Okay, but what about the other three? They're not good enough to sell, either?

Well, considering they are a SERIES, I can't sell the second two until after the first one is published. I haven't been querying the first one for the last several months. I've had some positive responses, but in the end, I was told it wasn't quite ready yet.

Then I had a revelation. One agent told me they wanted to know more about the characters. There were hints in the story about a really interesting history, a looooooong backstory. She wanted to read THAT novel, about that history. *insert flashing light bulb here* So I started writing it. I'm now about half way through that draft, but it will need editing and critiquing from my writing friends before I send it out. Maybe six weeks of work, if I get this draft done soon!

*cue renewal of interest in my writing* OH! So you're not a TOTAL failure, yet. Right? There's still hope for you?

Nope. I will only ever be a failure if I quit trying. I REPEAT: I WILL ONLY EVER BE A FAILURE IF I QUIT TRYING.

So there. Have any of you had this conversation before? How did you deal with it? Because I was double-teamed on it last night. One of the participants in the conversation had known about my writing since last summer. She assumed I'd been long-published by now, and was mildly disappointed that I wasn't. The other person learned of my writing for the first time, so he was a little less disappointed in my lack of publishing credits, but I still felt the sting. Consider this post my way of dealing with their double-whammy. :)

Back to the beginning, with better notes this time.

Between being on pseudo-vacation this week, and numerous tiny but time consuming chores, I haven't really been writing. Sigh, once again. This is becoming an all-too-frequent refrain around here. It's starting to sound a little whiny.

Hark! What's that yonder? *squint really hard at the horizon*

It's a PROPER edit/crit of my first manuscript! Wait...oh no! It's too much! It burns! Aaaah!

Cue much flailing and wailing and gnashing and rending. /END that silliness, pull on Big Girl Pants

Now that I've recovered from the shock that my writing isn't 100% clear and perfect (I know, right?), I have renewed purpose. I'm bowing out of the #B22K exercises for a bit. I might keep writing the WIP, but for now, the primary goal is to get book one up to snuff before finishing book three. It only makes sense.

In the mean time, I will keep writing. I can't really help myself at this point, even if it is just a few hundred words a day.

Also, I'm wondering what to do about the submissions I have out at the moment. Book One is in the hands of people with the power to make my dreams of publication come true, but now I'm terrified they aren't seeing the story at its best. Do I email them and ask for a chance to resubmit after the edits are complete? Or is that wishy-washy?

I know I'm frequently wishy-washy, so I'm not afraid of that. I just want to know what agents/editors might think of such a request. Any ideas/suggestions? Thank you all! :)

Tumblr is a Time Sink

That's right. I was writing. "Was" being the operative word in that sentence. I happily edited the last ten pages or so I made last night, and picked up writing where I left off. And then I took a break and checked the Tweeties. There was an interesting link to someone's Tumblr. I tried to resist clicking, but I had to see the damned picture. So I spent the next forty minutes dancing through Tumblr posts. Gah! That's why I don't use it more often. I'd waste my whole life reading through everyone's mental meanderings and random photos. What is wrong with me? I have important work I need to be doing!

I had to take Lulu to the mall today to buy a pair of plain black flats for her chorus concert in a few weeks. They rejected her current pair because they have little metal pyramid studs across the toes. So I spent 30 perfectly good dollars on a pair of shoes she'll probably wear once. Crap. At least we got soft pretzels. The mall is good for something.

We also got new slippers. Two pairs for $10, and they're as soft as little pillows. I have a slipper obsession. I don't have any idea why, but I wear them constantly, and they wear out almost as fast as I can buy them. I think I'm on my fifth pair since the new year. My slippers are black with little purple bows, and it took me ten minutes to realize there was no "right" or "left" slipper. They're like little glorified ankle socks, with cushioning sewn into the sole. Delightful! Lulu's are rainbow stripes.

So now I finally get a chance to sit and write, and what do I do? Waste half the night on Tumblr. I give up. I'm going back to work now. Fooey on the Internet for being such a tempting diversion.

Words: 30,157
Pages: 99

Typical Monday

And typically, Monday throws me about eight curve balls, all directed straight at my nose, at the same time.

Ninja cat struck again this morning. I think I'm going to fill his food bowl every night before bed so he won't attack my feet predawn anymore. I need the sleep.

I had to run a series of tiny but important errands, and that ate up half my morning. I had to pay bills, balance the checkbook, and do the same for the Girl Scout cookie money. We're almost done with that, at least.

Every Sunday night, I get excited for the peace and quiet of a Monday morning. I imagine myself sitting down at the computer and writing or editing for six hours straight. Then Monday strikes, and I don't even get to glance at my WIP until early afternoon. All I can hope is that Tuesday will be better. Monday night I find myself grateful it's all over, and I know Tuesday will surely be better. And it usually is.

I'm about to go undertake another first for me. I'm going to resubmit a revised manuscript to an agent who suggested some changes. I just hope she still wants to see it, and that she thinks it's better now. This is a huge nail-biter for me. She left the door open for me, but if she doesn't like my changes, I'll be burning a bridge if I submit now. But I like the changes, and if she wants it different still, she could always ask for more. At least she'll know I'm quick on the turnaround, and willing to make changes. Double-edged sword. I think it's worth a shot, though.

I refuse to give myself ulcers worrying about things like this anymore. I think that's the healthiest view I could possibly take. With that bit of encouragement, I'm off to send the Email of No Return.

Making the switch from LJ

So, I've been writing over at LiveJournal for a relatively long time, and I'm trying Blogger out for a while. I'm nervous about switching, because I don't want to abandon all my old posts over there. However, I'm interested to see if this platform is a little easier/better/whatever other superlative comes to mind.

So far, I like the layout and format over here. It's easy to use, but then again so is LJ. I've decided to go ahead and write a few of my daily updates here to see if we can't get used to it.

Practical distractions today:

1. My new laptop battery is awesome. I've not been able to unplug and take the computer anywhere for like six months, because the old battery would die after ten minutes. If I needed to print something, it became a suicide dash down the stairs to the office to get everything printed before the computer completely croaked. I unplugged yesterday at 4:17 pm, gave up and went to bed at 11:05, and when I got up this morning, I still had 26% battery life! Awesome Power! Literally! (at this moment it's still at 26%!)

2. Because I am now free to roam the house with my computer again, of course I've been planted in the same damn chair where the power cord is plugged in. Well, I took it downstairs to watch Jeopardy! last night with Tim, but I came right back. And Jeopardy! is apparently misspelled if you leave off the exclamation mark. I should know, since both my husband and I are past Jeopardy! champs.

3. I'm itching to start book 3 now, since book 1 is done, and I'm working second-round edits on 2. But every time I start looking at book 1 again, I want to cry, go back and edit it again. At this rate, I'll bounce back and forth between the first two books, re-editing until the end of the universe.

4. I've discovered I spend way too much time reading Twitter.

Finally, if you've ever seen my LJ updates, they are basically a writing journal I've been keeping, updating my daily progress. I guess that's pretty boring for anyone but the writer writing them. To me, they are a road map through the insanity that got me to the end of each novel. To a casual passer-by, they are probably as dull as dishwater, aside from the occasional bit of insanity thrown in to keep myself on my toes.

At the end of each of those posts, I'd list my daily progress in this format:

Words: (current number of words in the novel I'm working on)
Pages: (for those who find this is a more accurate measure of writing, although I can't imagine why anyone would)
And when I'm editing, I list:
Edit Page: (which reminds me how far I am through the current cycle of darling-murdering)

So, since I really should get to work today, here's the end of it. (And the battery's down to 20%! Go Antivirus program, you battery power consumption hog!)

Words: 96,787
Pages: 310
Edit Page: 96