Yep. I think it's Flipper. In drag.
Click here for a closer look, if you think your retinas can stand the burn.
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Just When You Think
You've seen everything in this business . . .
Yep. I think it's Flipper. In drag.
Click here for a closer look, if you think your retinas can stand the burn.
Yep. I think it's Flipper. In drag.
Click here for a closer look, if you think your retinas can stand the burn.
Be Nice
At times, trying to write an authorial e-mail to someone who is deliberately trying to get a rise out of you is like trying to speak French through gritted teeth (try saying je suis épuisée with your molars clenched. Go on, I dare you.)
Like this guy who queries me about possibly publishing something on his web site. It sounds like a semi-pro offer from the subject line, so I open it, and it turns out to be another damn reviewer "informing" me that he's publishing this hatchet job, and here's a copy of it, cut and pasted in the body of the e-mail 'cause by now he's figured out I don't open attachments.
Here's how the first draft of my response goes:
DearMoron Mr. Smith,
I don't knowwho the hell you think you are you, or why you decided to send me yet another pompous overwritten toddler tantrum-level detriabe your review of my novel you know, unlike those fifty pages you've been re-writing since high school, in the drawer to your left. I appreciate your invitation desperate cry for attention to respond with a good kick to your posterior rebuttal, but I never read trashreviews. I wish you would crawl back into your hole and leave me alone the best of luck and you'll need it with your future endeavors. Jerk.
Authors aren't supposed to be candid; we're supposed to be nice. And I think most of us try. There are a few notable authors who go berserk and start threatening lawsuits if you say anything negative about them on the internet, probably because (and someone had to explain this to me) they spend half the night googling their own names.
I don't do that, so I guess that's the attraction.
Like this guy who queries me about possibly publishing something on his web site. It sounds like a semi-pro offer from the subject line, so I open it, and it turns out to be another damn reviewer "informing" me that he's publishing this hatchet job, and here's a copy of it, cut and pasted in the body of the e-mail 'cause by now he's figured out I don't open attachments.
Here's how the first draft of my response goes:
Dear
I don't know
Authors aren't supposed to be candid; we're supposed to be nice. And I think most of us try. There are a few notable authors who go berserk and start threatening lawsuits if you say anything negative about them on the internet, probably because (and someone had to explain this to me) they spend half the night googling their own names.
I don't do that, so I guess that's the attraction.
Reads note
In Antiquities, one of my monthly reads, Norman F. Cantor disassembles philosophers via a short and brutal sociological analysis of Plato, Socrates and Aristotle. It's done with such surgical precision that it will leave you breathless (and suddenly understanding certain wailing liberals a lot better.) Cantor is not a lit-snob, though; he does the same thing to religion and other foundations of civilization. No malice involved, no emotional garbage through which you must wade; clean and dry and laser-precise.
Highly recommend this one, but only if you're prepared to have most of what you believe in presented to you in a very different light.
Highly recommend this one, but only if you're prepared to have most of what you believe in presented to you in a very different light.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
The Best Policy
I have definitely one, maybe two e-interviews to do this week. An e-interview is when an interviewer e-mails you questions, which gives you time to think up clever responses, so you look like you actually deserve this job.
You can't be completely honest, either. Take the first question nearly every interviewer asks a novelist: What inspired you to write this book?
Dishonest novelist: First, all of the planets aligned with Scorpio, which of course took place during the summer solstice, and flooded my soul with the most amazing creative reincarnation energy -- did I tell you I was once a French King's courtesan? -- and brought me back to Christ, only not in a Bible-thumpy way, but in an awesome non-denominational thing that doesn't mean I have to go to church or anything. At the time I was in the last stages of closure with my former spouse and best friend for life, who is making such wonderful progress through detox and preliminary sex-change hormone therapy, and after I sold his Porsche for $1 I felt I was open to all the possibilities, and recalled that the same exact thing had happened to Herman Melville just before he wrote Moby Dick, only probably not with a crack addict/gender-confused spouse, so I allowed my muse to express this by exploring the delicate relationship between a rebellious artistic androgynous teen shoplifter and her murderous ex-prostitute parent figure, but not like the one in White Oleander, I assure you, with a setting in the same Deep South tableau in which I grew to maturity as the child of alcoholic parents who may or may not have been blood related, naturally, and then....(500 more lines of the same babble.)
What's the honest answer to that question? If you're an aspiring writer, you already know it. If you're not, then send us an e-mail. We'll get back to you.
You can't be completely honest, either. Take the first question nearly every interviewer asks a novelist: What inspired you to write this book?
Dishonest novelist: First, all of the planets aligned with Scorpio, which of course took place during the summer solstice, and flooded my soul with the most amazing creative reincarnation energy -- did I tell you I was once a French King's courtesan? -- and brought me back to Christ, only not in a Bible-thumpy way, but in an awesome non-denominational thing that doesn't mean I have to go to church or anything. At the time I was in the last stages of closure with my former spouse and best friend for life, who is making such wonderful progress through detox and preliminary sex-change hormone therapy, and after I sold his Porsche for $1 I felt I was open to all the possibilities, and recalled that the same exact thing had happened to Herman Melville just before he wrote Moby Dick, only probably not with a crack addict/gender-confused spouse, so I allowed my muse to express this by exploring the delicate relationship between a rebellious artistic androgynous teen shoplifter and her murderous ex-prostitute parent figure, but not like the one in White Oleander, I assure you, with a setting in the same Deep South tableau in which I grew to maturity as the child of alcoholic parents who may or may not have been blood related, naturally, and then....(500 more lines of the same babble.)
What's the honest answer to that question? If you're an aspiring writer, you already know it. If you're not, then send us an e-mail. We'll get back to you.
Picking Your Battles
Editors like to edit, and while I'm doing pretty well with the final product, there are still occasions when an editor steps in and say Whoa, can't do that. With me, it's almost always tagged with That will offend the reader or That will burn the reader's face off.
Behind this is the ghostly echo of my mother wailing, Can't you write something nice?
I don't mind the editorial jerk on the writer-bit. I'm well aware that, left to run around unchecked, my powers could quickly be turned to the Dark Side. Then a little teeny hologram of my mother with two bagels bobby-pinned to her hair will have to pop up in Episode 19 and plead, Save us, Obi-Luke . . .
Seriously, editing can be a good thing, because you've got to justify how what you've written serves the story. If you can do this to your satisfaction -- and the editors -- then you can usually win the battle.
It's when the editor says, Sorry, still doesn't work for me that you have to decide whether to go with the edit, or stick to your guns. And you should make sure it's that important to you.
I'm pretty flexible, so I generally come up with a compromise that works for me and the editor. In the 26 books I've had published, I've only insisted on not changing something an editor didn't like twice -- the ending of StarDoc, and a single line said by the minister in Midsummer Melody.
Behind this is the ghostly echo of my mother wailing, Can't you write something nice?
I don't mind the editorial jerk on the writer-bit. I'm well aware that, left to run around unchecked, my powers could quickly be turned to the Dark Side. Then a little teeny hologram of my mother with two bagels bobby-pinned to her hair will have to pop up in Episode 19 and plead, Save us, Obi-Luke . . .
Seriously, editing can be a good thing, because you've got to justify how what you've written serves the story. If you can do this to your satisfaction -- and the editors -- then you can usually win the battle.
It's when the editor says, Sorry, still doesn't work for me that you have to decide whether to go with the edit, or stick to your guns. And you should make sure it's that important to you.
I'm pretty flexible, so I generally come up with a compromise that works for me and the editor. In the 26 books I've had published, I've only insisted on not changing something an editor didn't like twice -- the ending of StarDoc, and a single line said by the minister in Midsummer Melody.
Monday, November 08, 2004
Monday Ten Things
Links to inspire and delight those who write:
1. Name Generators that not even I would have thought up. Love the header line.
2. My pagan friends will chuckle at this one.
3. New Novelist Software is, evidently, an outline-writing program -- you have to write the actual novel -- but this could be helpful to the outline haters.
4. Wordcounter will help you find the word you've used too often in any given text. Just cut and paste in the box (not a download.)
5. WriteThis is pretty neat and free.
6. The Textalyser is, too.
7. So is Rough Draft.
8. You have to pay $29.95 to get this one, or $49.95 for the multi-pack fantastic offer, but the sidebar has some freebie lists you can access at no charge.
9. Tons more freeware.
10. And this story generator is funny in ways only a romance writer can truly appreciate.
1. Name Generators that not even I would have thought up. Love the header line.
2. My pagan friends will chuckle at this one.
3. New Novelist Software is, evidently, an outline-writing program -- you have to write the actual novel -- but this could be helpful to the outline haters.
4. Wordcounter will help you find the word you've used too often in any given text. Just cut and paste in the box (not a download.)
5. WriteThis is pretty neat and free.
6. The Textalyser is, too.
7. So is Rough Draft.
8. You have to pay $29.95 to get this one, or $49.95 for the multi-pack fantastic offer, but the sidebar has some freebie lists you can access at no charge.
9. Tons more freeware.
10. And this story generator is funny in ways only a romance writer can truly appreciate.
Sunday, November 07, 2004
Afterburned
One of the subplots I played with in Afterburn, the SF novel that follows Bio Rescue, involves Jadaira's Terran stepmother, Teresa Selmar, and Captain Noel Argate, a marine biologist working for the League. This scene helps establish their backstory almost entirely through dialogue, which I prefer.
The danger of doing backstory in dialogue is that it can sound like a classic As-you-know-Bob info dump. Unless you have some fun with it. . .
Excerpt from Afterburn by S.L. Viehl
Scheduled Publication Date: September 2005
“The one who got away.”
Teresa turned to see Noel Argate watching her from the edge of the moon pool deck. She already knew what she would say before she removed her regulator and mask, but she took her time doing so. “The one who said he didn’t need an alien-lover girlfriend wrecking his career.”
“Teresa. You remembered. I’m touched.”
“It isn’t every day you find yourself dumped by your lover and expelled from your master’s program for cheating on a test you studied six months to pass.” She stayed in the water. “That program you planted on my computer was inspired, by the way. Everyone thought I had used it to hack into the university’s database and get those test answers. No BioTech on the planet would even glance at my enrollment application after you railroaded me.”
He held up one finger. “Don’t forget, I drove you off the planet as well.”
“That, too.” How like Noel to admit it so baldly, and right to the face of the former victim.
“Fortunately for me, you’re not a vindictive person.”
“You have always pegged me so well.” She removed the long blade from her shoulder harness and let the light gleam along its honed edge before replacing it. “Feel like going for a swim?”
“Maybe later, when there isn’t any steam pouring out of your ear canals.” Noel chuckled and dropped down to sit on the deck step, seemingly indifferent to the fact that seawater instantly soaked his immaculate trousers to the knees. “Your prediction was dead on, you know. I wrecked my career quite adequately on my own.”
She arched her brows. “Really. What brought you down? Sleeping with the wrong professor’s wife, or pissing on the wrong colleague?”
“Terran marine biology has become choked with the young and the restless these past few years.” Mild annoyance made faint lines appear across his forehead. “A promising experiment went bad, and someone with slightly more ambition than me took advantage of it.”
“Exposed you before you could clean up the mess and cover your ass, did he?” She let her grin spread wide. “Lord, Noel, as justice goes, that’s almost poetic.”
He looked down at the rippling surface of the pool. “It ruined my marriage and my career.”
Finding out he’d married someone else sent a small shockwave through her. “It obviously did nothing to block your dive into the exciting field of intergalactic military science.”
“I wasn’t thinking when I enlisted. I just had to get away from it; get off Terra and start over.” He tugged at the front seam of his shirt. “The uniform takes some getting used to, but the rest of it isn’t much different than teaching at BioTech was. I travel more. My colleagues aren’t Terran, of course, but one gets used to that offplanet.”
“How enormously courageous of you.” She swam to the edge of the pool. “Do go on. I should start weeping, oh, any year now.”
“I think you’ve cried enough over me.” He reached out to help her out.
“I hate to deflate your self-opinion, Noel, but it was only that one time, when I found all my belongings in the yard in front of our apartment.” Teresa ignored his hand and climbed out of the pool. “Mostly it was for the clothes. The rain and mud had ruined half of them, and I couldn’t afford to replace them.”
“The housekeeping drone wasn’t programmed to do that. I guess it got its wires crossed.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “God, you really must hate my guts.”
“Long time ago.” She began peeling off her wetsuit, and hesitated. It had been decades since she had lived on Terra, where public nudity was only one of the many social taboos. “I’m naked under this. If that’s a problem for you and your delicate homeworld sensibilities, best turn your back.”
He shrugged. “Seeing you naked was always a pleasure, but I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“I haven’t been a pretty young co-ed for twenty years, Noel,” she said wryly as she continued to strip. “These days my body fights gravity, and gravity is starting to win.”
“Nonsense. Mature women have their own appeal.” He studied her. “You’ve grown up beautifully, Terri.”
“Thank you. I think I can die happy now.” She stowed her suit and rig in her locker and pulled on a dry tunic and trousers. Get this over with, now. She faced him. “What are you doing here, Noel, and what do you want?”
He stroked his chin. “Friendship being out of the question, I suppose.”
“I’d rather tongue-kiss a man-o-war.”
Copyright 2004 by S.L. Viehl
All Rights Reserved.
The danger of doing backstory in dialogue is that it can sound like a classic As-you-know-Bob info dump. Unless you have some fun with it. . .
Excerpt from Afterburn by S.L. Viehl
Scheduled Publication Date: September 2005
“The one who got away.”
Teresa turned to see Noel Argate watching her from the edge of the moon pool deck. She already knew what she would say before she removed her regulator and mask, but she took her time doing so. “The one who said he didn’t need an alien-lover girlfriend wrecking his career.”
“Teresa. You remembered. I’m touched.”
“It isn’t every day you find yourself dumped by your lover and expelled from your master’s program for cheating on a test you studied six months to pass.” She stayed in the water. “That program you planted on my computer was inspired, by the way. Everyone thought I had used it to hack into the university’s database and get those test answers. No BioTech on the planet would even glance at my enrollment application after you railroaded me.”
He held up one finger. “Don’t forget, I drove you off the planet as well.”
“That, too.” How like Noel to admit it so baldly, and right to the face of the former victim.
“Fortunately for me, you’re not a vindictive person.”
“You have always pegged me so well.” She removed the long blade from her shoulder harness and let the light gleam along its honed edge before replacing it. “Feel like going for a swim?”
“Maybe later, when there isn’t any steam pouring out of your ear canals.” Noel chuckled and dropped down to sit on the deck step, seemingly indifferent to the fact that seawater instantly soaked his immaculate trousers to the knees. “Your prediction was dead on, you know. I wrecked my career quite adequately on my own.”
She arched her brows. “Really. What brought you down? Sleeping with the wrong professor’s wife, or pissing on the wrong colleague?”
“Terran marine biology has become choked with the young and the restless these past few years.” Mild annoyance made faint lines appear across his forehead. “A promising experiment went bad, and someone with slightly more ambition than me took advantage of it.”
“Exposed you before you could clean up the mess and cover your ass, did he?” She let her grin spread wide. “Lord, Noel, as justice goes, that’s almost poetic.”
He looked down at the rippling surface of the pool. “It ruined my marriage and my career.”
Finding out he’d married someone else sent a small shockwave through her. “It obviously did nothing to block your dive into the exciting field of intergalactic military science.”
“I wasn’t thinking when I enlisted. I just had to get away from it; get off Terra and start over.” He tugged at the front seam of his shirt. “The uniform takes some getting used to, but the rest of it isn’t much different than teaching at BioTech was. I travel more. My colleagues aren’t Terran, of course, but one gets used to that offplanet.”
“How enormously courageous of you.” She swam to the edge of the pool. “Do go on. I should start weeping, oh, any year now.”
“I think you’ve cried enough over me.” He reached out to help her out.
“I hate to deflate your self-opinion, Noel, but it was only that one time, when I found all my belongings in the yard in front of our apartment.” Teresa ignored his hand and climbed out of the pool. “Mostly it was for the clothes. The rain and mud had ruined half of them, and I couldn’t afford to replace them.”
“The housekeeping drone wasn’t programmed to do that. I guess it got its wires crossed.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “God, you really must hate my guts.”
“Long time ago.” She began peeling off her wetsuit, and hesitated. It had been decades since she had lived on Terra, where public nudity was only one of the many social taboos. “I’m naked under this. If that’s a problem for you and your delicate homeworld sensibilities, best turn your back.”
He shrugged. “Seeing you naked was always a pleasure, but I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“I haven’t been a pretty young co-ed for twenty years, Noel,” she said wryly as she continued to strip. “These days my body fights gravity, and gravity is starting to win.”
“Nonsense. Mature women have their own appeal.” He studied her. “You’ve grown up beautifully, Terri.”
“Thank you. I think I can die happy now.” She stowed her suit and rig in her locker and pulled on a dry tunic and trousers. Get this over with, now. She faced him. “What are you doing here, Noel, and what do you want?”
He stroked his chin. “Friendship being out of the question, I suppose.”
“I’d rather tongue-kiss a man-o-war.”
Copyright 2004 by S.L. Viehl
All Rights Reserved.
Propaganda
Now that I'm disgusted with the entire country, it's easy to submerge back into the career. One thing to love about my job: I work alone, at home, and the only people who get in my face are those I adore.
My excellent web designers have put up the launch page for the new Darkyn website. Keep an eye on that page, there will be much more added very soon.
My excellent web designers have put up the launch page for the new Darkyn website. Keep an eye on that page, there will be much more added very soon.
One Final, Election-Related Request
There are people like me with ancestors who served our country during the Civil War, World War I, World War II, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War. It doesn’t end there. My brother served in the Persian Gulf War, and I will have at least two family members serve during the Iraq War; perhaps more. I have absolutely no doubt a member of my family will serve in the next war.
I am also a veteran of the armed forces. I have worn the uniform, and served my country. I was fortunate that I served during a time of relative peace, so I never went to war.
I’ve seen the term “New Confederacy” being used by angry Kerry supporters. I’ve seen the term “Intellectual Nazis” being used by angry Bush supporters. My family served the Old Confederacy, and also fought the German Nazis. I don’t appreciate seeing those terms used as weapons by people who cannot respect the rights of the American people to vote for the candidate they freely choose.
Which is, apparently, half the damn country.
Honestly? I really don’t care who you voted for, and I wouldn’t judge you for your choice. Here’s a shocker: I respect you and your rights. If you voted for who you thought should be President, then you exercised those rights. Congratulations. Good for you. Great that you live in a country where you can do that, isn’t it?
What I care about is my history, and it is mine, because my people were there. History which you’re now dunking in your respective political toilets. Please understand that I totally respect your right to immerse yourself in such waste. Just don’t drag my history down the drain with you.
I am also a veteran of the armed forces. I have worn the uniform, and served my country. I was fortunate that I served during a time of relative peace, so I never went to war.
I’ve seen the term “New Confederacy” being used by angry Kerry supporters. I’ve seen the term “Intellectual Nazis” being used by angry Bush supporters. My family served the Old Confederacy, and also fought the German Nazis. I don’t appreciate seeing those terms used as weapons by people who cannot respect the rights of the American people to vote for the candidate they freely choose.
Which is, apparently, half the damn country.
Honestly? I really don’t care who you voted for, and I wouldn’t judge you for your choice. Here’s a shocker: I respect you and your rights. If you voted for who you thought should be President, then you exercised those rights. Congratulations. Good for you. Great that you live in a country where you can do that, isn’t it?
What I care about is my history, and it is mine, because my people were there. History which you’re now dunking in your respective political toilets. Please understand that I totally respect your right to immerse yourself in such waste. Just don’t drag my history down the drain with you.
Saturday, November 06, 2004
Art
I love Daniel Merriam's watercolors, which are being exhibited tonight in San Francisco at the Louis Aronow Gallery. This one isn't part of the print gallery on the internet, but it might be at the Aronow show. It's also my favorite of his work:
Smithsonian Magazine October 2004 issue has a great article by Paul Trachtman on NY Museum of Modern Art's conservator Michael Duffy, and the work he put into the restoration of Picasso's Les Demoiselles d'Avignon.
Smithsonian Magazine October 2004 issue has a great article by Paul Trachtman on NY Museum of Modern Art's conservator Michael Duffy, and the work he put into the restoration of Picasso's Les Demoiselles d'Avignon.
Way of the Cheetah
Getting up at 4 am when I don't have to may seem masochistic, but it will do great things for my daily quota and maybe buy me an extra week off during the holidays. Very early AM is also a good writing time for me, and I barely noticed the difference this morning when the alarm went off.
It's day six of NaNoWriMo, everyone still chugging merrily along? Hope so. I do enjoy seeing all the fun my friends are having with it. The 175,000 words or so that I'm writing this month = two books already sold, with deadlines attached to them, so this is not a game for me. This is my job. Here, every month is NaNoWriMo, and pretty much has been for the last six years.
If you'd like to boost your speed and productivity, this is what I've found helped me break the 10K per day barrier:
1. Write at your most creative hour. To find it, try writing at different times of the day and night, and see which one is most comfortable for you as a writer. I like early mornings because the house is quiet, everyone is asleep, and I get to see the sunrise on my break.
2. See the scene before you write. Try to imagine it in your head before you write it, like a movie clip. Envision as many details as you can, and don't forget to use all of your senses.
3. Make your writing area comfortable for you. Mine is a computer on a compact wheeled desk with nothing in, on, or around it. I'm like a three year old when it comes to being visually distracted by colors, shapes and patterns. Also, if things get loud, the wheeled desk is nice because I can push the computer into another room.
4. Write straight through without stopping. This is writing minus the back-pedaling, re-reading and rewriting. Start to finish, no editing. Don't question yourself, don't worry about whether you're writing well or not. Trust yourself and keep going.
5. Get up and stretch now and then. Walk around for a minute at least once every hour. Don't dehydrate yourself and eat something nutritious every six to eight hours. Your body will thank you.
6. When you're finished, save your work, print it out if you want a hard copy, and then shut it down and walk away. Give yourself a good break before you start editing what you wrote. I always take about four to six hours off before I look at what I wrote.
7. After you edit once, put the work away and don't touch it again. Moving on to the next section that needs to be written is probably the hardest thing for writers to do besides the actual writing. You'll have a chance to go back and fix things when the book is done, and this is good practice for streamlining your editing process.
8. Reward yourself for making your quota. When you reach a goal, give yourself a pat on the back and do something you enjoy. Have lunch out, take a long walk with the dog, watch a TV show or movie, buy yourself a book, listen to a CD. This is really important, because even when you sell your work the way I do, you still need to pay the muse, renew the spirit, replenish the creativity well or whatever you want to call it. I hand write letters, knit, quilt, paint, read poetry or listen to music. Sometimes I just go for a drive through the country.
9. Don't grade yourself. This is not a test. This is training. Test comes later, when they pay you for what you write.
10. Don't stop writing. The reason I'm in print? Is because nothing stops me. Three hurricanes tried this summer, and I wrote by candlelight on a PDA for a total of twenty-one days without power or water. You can always find a way to write. Keep it up.
It's day six of NaNoWriMo, everyone still chugging merrily along? Hope so. I do enjoy seeing all the fun my friends are having with it. The 175,000 words or so that I'm writing this month = two books already sold, with deadlines attached to them, so this is not a game for me. This is my job. Here, every month is NaNoWriMo, and pretty much has been for the last six years.
If you'd like to boost your speed and productivity, this is what I've found helped me break the 10K per day barrier:
1. Write at your most creative hour. To find it, try writing at different times of the day and night, and see which one is most comfortable for you as a writer. I like early mornings because the house is quiet, everyone is asleep, and I get to see the sunrise on my break.
2. See the scene before you write. Try to imagine it in your head before you write it, like a movie clip. Envision as many details as you can, and don't forget to use all of your senses.
3. Make your writing area comfortable for you. Mine is a computer on a compact wheeled desk with nothing in, on, or around it. I'm like a three year old when it comes to being visually distracted by colors, shapes and patterns. Also, if things get loud, the wheeled desk is nice because I can push the computer into another room.
4. Write straight through without stopping. This is writing minus the back-pedaling, re-reading and rewriting. Start to finish, no editing. Don't question yourself, don't worry about whether you're writing well or not. Trust yourself and keep going.
5. Get up and stretch now and then. Walk around for a minute at least once every hour. Don't dehydrate yourself and eat something nutritious every six to eight hours. Your body will thank you.
6. When you're finished, save your work, print it out if you want a hard copy, and then shut it down and walk away. Give yourself a good break before you start editing what you wrote. I always take about four to six hours off before I look at what I wrote.
7. After you edit once, put the work away and don't touch it again. Moving on to the next section that needs to be written is probably the hardest thing for writers to do besides the actual writing. You'll have a chance to go back and fix things when the book is done, and this is good practice for streamlining your editing process.
8. Reward yourself for making your quota. When you reach a goal, give yourself a pat on the back and do something you enjoy. Have lunch out, take a long walk with the dog, watch a TV show or movie, buy yourself a book, listen to a CD. This is really important, because even when you sell your work the way I do, you still need to pay the muse, renew the spirit, replenish the creativity well or whatever you want to call it. I hand write letters, knit, quilt, paint, read poetry or listen to music. Sometimes I just go for a drive through the country.
9. Don't grade yourself. This is not a test. This is training. Test comes later, when they pay you for what you write.
10. Don't stop writing. The reason I'm in print? Is because nothing stops me. Three hurricanes tried this summer, and I wrote by candlelight on a PDA for a total of twenty-one days without power or water. You can always find a way to write. Keep it up.
Friday, November 05, 2004
13,274
The wordcount at present, minus the two hours I spent answering business e-mails and researching the research. But as of today, I am about finished honing the fine plot points for my next GCI book, the owner of www.darykn.com (don't bother to go there just now; nothing's up yet) and ready to draw a scale model of my vision of Jericho, circa 1400 BC.
All the exhaustion of yesterday seems to have evaporated, so I'm good for another couple of hours of writing. If the words keep flowing, I think I might hit 20K tonight and take tomorrow morning off to do something fun with the kids. Cooking, maybe. We haven't made crepes since we moved here. Crepes and strawberries and cinnamon tea sounds like a neat breakfast.
Off to earn them.
All the exhaustion of yesterday seems to have evaporated, so I'm good for another couple of hours of writing. If the words keep flowing, I think I might hit 20K tonight and take tomorrow morning off to do something fun with the kids. Cooking, maybe. We haven't made crepes since we moved here. Crepes and strawberries and cinnamon tea sounds like a neat breakfast.
Off to earn them.
Digging Into Jericho
Trying to map out an Iron Age biblical city scholars can't agree even existed at the time makes me wish I could go back to 1952 and kick Dame Kathleen Kenyon (universally acknowledged Jericho authority) in the shin, really hard. I can't rely on Garstang or Warren, and there were so many things she could have written about Jericho to settle this stuff. She was there, she dug it up. Instead, she chose not to organize her notes and write about her discoveries while dumping Iron Age pottery in her estate's pond to make a nice island for her ducks and smoking and drinking herself to death.
There are a lot of private, religion-related agendas among the academics, so you have to wade through them to get hard data, too. Some are devout Christians and Jews intent on proving the story of the Exodus; others want to discredit the Exodus and call the Hebrews a lot of displaced wandering goat herders who got uppity. You almost have to read a biography of the author writing the research book before you can trust what's in it -- and what isn't.
Kenyon seemed to be the most unbiased, scientific mind of the bunch, but she was criminally negligent with her findings, wrote next to nothing about them, and died before straightening out the whole mess. The time, circumstances and actuality of the fall of Jericho remains a big question mark.
Me, all I want is a map. I'll use my best guess and make up the rest.
There are a lot of private, religion-related agendas among the academics, so you have to wade through them to get hard data, too. Some are devout Christians and Jews intent on proving the story of the Exodus; others want to discredit the Exodus and call the Hebrews a lot of displaced wandering goat herders who got uppity. You almost have to read a biography of the author writing the research book before you can trust what's in it -- and what isn't.
Kenyon seemed to be the most unbiased, scientific mind of the bunch, but she was criminally negligent with her findings, wrote next to nothing about them, and died before straightening out the whole mess. The time, circumstances and actuality of the fall of Jericho remains a big question mark.
Me, all I want is a map. I'll use my best guess and make up the rest.
Thursday, November 04, 2004
Day at the OSC
Today I went as a field trip chaperon for my daughter and her fourth grade class to The Orlando Science Center. Six stories of some of the best kid-oriented/hands-on/totally cool science exhibits you can imagine. I touched a tornado made out of mist and watched a demonstrator throw a beaker of liquid nitrogen on a stage floor. Fort Lauderdale never had shows with liquid nitro. OSC offers reasonable ticket prices, too. If you're ever in town, and have kids, go.
Tonight I am a tired old woman with burning eyes, throbbing temples and aching joints who has been rudely reminded of how much energy nine and ten year olds have. Which is to say, an amount approaching infinity. All right, we played and laughed and had a wonderful time, but now I'm paying for it. Please note that on my tombstone, which should be commissioned by Friday at the latest, I would like engraved the following phrase: She Kept Up, The Fool.
This stuff is important, though. You need to talk to fourth graders about the nature of vortexes, how cold absolute zero is, and why NASA keeps crashing all those expensive things; it's an investment in the future. And know what? They love you for it. For taking the time, for listening, for being there. For understanding their insatiable curiosity. For some of them will be like me, and never outgrow it.
Tonight I am a tired old woman with burning eyes, throbbing temples and aching joints who has been rudely reminded of how much energy nine and ten year olds have. Which is to say, an amount approaching infinity. All right, we played and laughed and had a wonderful time, but now I'm paying for it. Please note that on my tombstone, which should be commissioned by Friday at the latest, I would like engraved the following phrase: She Kept Up, The Fool.
This stuff is important, though. You need to talk to fourth graders about the nature of vortexes, how cold absolute zero is, and why NASA keeps crashing all those expensive things; it's an investment in the future. And know what? They love you for it. For taking the time, for listening, for being there. For understanding their insatiable curiosity. For some of them will be like me, and never outgrow it.
Discoveries
Roborats, TNG: John Horgan has an excellent article, The Myth of Mind Control in Discover magazine's October issue. Personally I'd love to see someone decode the human brain; I'm assuming, of course, we still have them. Also snagged a link to Puzzle Master Scott Kim's excellent website from this issue.
All in the Family: My granddad, a constable for Ann Arundle County, MD, was also a volunteer fire fighter in Riviera Beach for more than twenty years. On December 19, 1944, he was visiting someone at University of Maryland's University Hospital and personally put out a fire while in the building. I was not aware of any of this until last week. After I mentioned my admiration for the real fire fighters who inspired my last two JH books, Mom told me sent me copies of letters about all this that she's saved since his death in 1968.
Oh, That Landmark: Having a million books in print is a big landmark, according to all the other kids on my playground, and evidently, I'm very close. Unless the universe unexpectedly collapses, I should hit it sometime in March 2005. Go ahead, hate me. Thousands do. :)
All in the Family: My granddad, a constable for Ann Arundle County, MD, was also a volunteer fire fighter in Riviera Beach for more than twenty years. On December 19, 1944, he was visiting someone at University of Maryland's University Hospital and personally put out a fire while in the building. I was not aware of any of this until last week. After I mentioned my admiration for the real fire fighters who inspired my last two JH books, Mom told me sent me copies of letters about all this that she's saved since his death in 1968.
Oh, That Landmark: Having a million books in print is a big landmark, according to all the other kids on my playground, and evidently, I'm very close. Unless the universe unexpectedly collapses, I should hit it sometime in March 2005. Go ahead, hate me. Thousands do. :)
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Don't Mess with the Vagus
On the medical front, we went to the doc, got all the hardware removed, and did the post-op followup. My man was fine on the way. He was fine on the table. He was fine and brave during the icky parts. Had a good conversation with the doc, snagged a copy of the pathology report and loaded my man in his truck to drive him home. We were driving, he was fine, he was fine -- and then he wasn't.
Ten minutes from the doc's office, my man starts to have a vasovagal attack.
Dealing with a person who is fainting while you're driving in high speed traffic is not fun, but I managed. Took another twenty minutes to get him home, warmed up and rehydrated. After a good long nap and more fluids, he was fine.
I, on the other hand, am now *officially* stressed out. Because a vasovagal attack sometimes also looks like a heart attack, especially when it's the guy you love, who had major surgery fourteen days ago, and you're on an interstate and driving a ton and a half truck 65 mph and holding his wrist counting his pulse rate under your breath while remembering the last guy who had a heart attack while he was alone with you didn't make it.
I don't want to have a heart attack, so after the scare was over I shifted into recoup mode. I prayed, drank my calming herbal tea, spent some time hanging with the man and our kids and did a little knitting. Now I'm going to soak in a tub for awhile, and then I'll write, and work out the rest of it on the page, where all that fear belongs.
Ten minutes from the doc's office, my man starts to have a vasovagal attack.
Dealing with a person who is fainting while you're driving in high speed traffic is not fun, but I managed. Took another twenty minutes to get him home, warmed up and rehydrated. After a good long nap and more fluids, he was fine.
I, on the other hand, am now *officially* stressed out. Because a vasovagal attack sometimes also looks like a heart attack, especially when it's the guy you love, who had major surgery fourteen days ago, and you're on an interstate and driving a ton and a half truck 65 mph and holding his wrist counting his pulse rate under your breath while remembering the last guy who had a heart attack while he was alone with you didn't make it.
I don't want to have a heart attack, so after the scare was over I shifted into recoup mode. I prayed, drank my calming herbal tea, spent some time hanging with the man and our kids and did a little knitting. Now I'm going to soak in a tub for awhile, and then I'll write, and work out the rest of it on the page, where all that fear belongs.
Reads
Guess I was wrong about it dragging out -- Kerry has conceded to Bush. And everywhere you go, it's whine, gloat, whine, gloat, right? I feel bad. So many people in the publishing industry are going to have to keep that vow to move to Canada. Could be good for Canadian publishing . . .
Anyway. Enough politics. Let's talk some real history here.
The first chapter of Wanderings, Chaim Potok's History of the Jews, ISBN 0-449-21582-2, starts with this line: "When I turn to the Bible, I discover that my ancestor's name was Abraham." I bought the book for that lovely, simple line, and will probably throw aside everything else I'm reading so I can enjoy what follows. $7.99 from Ballantine.
Norman F. Cantor goes back about two and a half million years more than Potok as he opens Antiquity, ISBN 0-06-093098-5, and covers civilization from the time it was born in Sumer until it fell with Rome. Less personal, more scholarly, but worth the $13.95 you have to shell out to HarperCollins for the trade pb.
Barbara Tuchman, whose A Distant Mirror got me hooked on historical narratives way back in '79, offers views of England and Palestine from the Bronze Age to Balfour with Bible and Sword, ISBN 0-345-31427-1. Ballantine's 2003 edition is $16.00.
Anyway. Enough politics. Let's talk some real history here.
The first chapter of Wanderings, Chaim Potok's History of the Jews, ISBN 0-449-21582-2, starts with this line: "When I turn to the Bible, I discover that my ancestor's name was Abraham." I bought the book for that lovely, simple line, and will probably throw aside everything else I'm reading so I can enjoy what follows. $7.99 from Ballantine.
Norman F. Cantor goes back about two and a half million years more than Potok as he opens Antiquity, ISBN 0-06-093098-5, and covers civilization from the time it was born in Sumer until it fell with Rome. Less personal, more scholarly, but worth the $13.95 you have to shell out to HarperCollins for the trade pb.
Barbara Tuchman, whose A Distant Mirror got me hooked on historical narratives way back in '79, offers views of England and Palestine from the Bronze Age to Balfour with Bible and Sword, ISBN 0-345-31427-1. Ballantine's 2003 edition is $16.00.
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