Music

I'm cleaning today. Yikes.

First, there's the whole music decision. I want something major when I'm cleaning. And because I'm old and have a great deal of music that isn't in the least current, I'm going to use a mix tape I love.

Relax
Get this Party Started
Kashmire
Baby Did a Bad, Bad Thing
A Thousand Miles
Sympathy for the Devil
Own Personal Jesus
Living for the City
Young Americans
Rock On
Would I Lie To You
Good Vibrations
It Hurts To Be In Love

When I was younger and had to go on a lot of interviews to get jobs, I always, Always, put the theme from Raiders of the Lost Ark in the tape deck.

My folks were amazing when it came to music. When we were small (my two sisters and myself) we would all gather in the living room on stormy nights. We had this big floor to ceiling window through which we watched the lightning and the rain. My mother would pick out something classical, something moving and ferocious, Beethoven or maybe Mozart, and we'd listen, and watch and dance around, all of us klutzy Jewish kids, moving to the rhythm.

My parents were genius when it came to our exposure to the arts. We went to concerts, plays, ballets and musical theater from the time I could sit still. There was always something wonderful playing in the background of my childhood.

They used to take us to really fancy restaurants, even when we were really little, because my mother wanted us to be able to dine with kings, and never be embarrassed or unsure about what spoon to use.

I read before going to kindergarten, and part of what made reading such a joy was that when I read a book, everyone else in the family read that same book so we could talk about it at dinner. Imagine how extraordinarily special I felt as the center of attention, everyone asking for my opinion about how Jane met Dick. And when my sisters read a book that was too advanced for me, I read it anyway, because I wanted to be part of the conversation. This was part of our ritual, part of our lives, and I've never gotten over my love of the arts, of books, of the discussion.

I never went to college, but because of the broad exposure I had as a child, the encouragement to read Everything, I have never felt less-then in a conversation. I know how to say I don't know something, which was another gift from my folks. We were brought into the very large world from our very small house in Southern California. I have, in fact, dined with Very Famous People and I used the correct fork every time. I have never met a king, but I know I could if it ever came up.

I never had children, but if I had, I would have tried my hardest to give them what my parents gave to us. A universe of possibilities.


03.26.05 @ 01:13 PM MST [Link to Entry]

Ch-ch-ch-Changes

My honey dug out the car! The snow was past the windows, so this is a big deal. So we're out of here. Movie night. I'm jazzed. Be back sometime tomorrow. Leave messages. I love messages.

03.24.05 @ 02:05 PM MST [Link to Entry]

Ah....writing.

I'm having the most wonderful blizzard. We got like 2 feet of snow yesterday, which cancelled our plans to leave town. Which ended up being a good thing, because I'm swimming in my story.

It's been a long time since I've enjoyed the process as much as this. There's a reason for that – I write for a living and I'm not Stephen King. So I have to write a lot of books. Which means that I don't have the luxury of time when I'm working up a new story.

One of the things that makes it work for me is that I'm a plotter, and before I write the first word, I know a lot about my characters and story. So I can write a book I'm proud of in not too much time.

Now I'm working on a single title in addition to the category books, and I'm not under a deadline with it, and oh my god, what a joy this is! Because I'm not in a rush, and because this is a complex book, I'm letting it evolve. Things just keep on unfolding. Character layers, dimension, connections. Because I believe that the purpose of plot is to reveal character, to force characters to change, it's wonderful to have the time to dig beneath the first ideas.

So much has changed since the initial rush to write down the plot. The basic story is the same, but now it's far more interesting. I'm going for complexity rather than complication, and that means exploring all the parts of the character. Not just how they think of themselves, but how they interact with family, friends, acquaintances. Expanding their universe.

And more than ever, I'm using my own issues to color my work. Which makes thing easier and more challenging at the same time. My heroine, who is definitely not me, shares a lot with me, but only in backstory. Her on-the-page journey is miles from my own, but I deeply understand how she's going to react, because we're coming from the same place.

And, I've been looking at her unflinchingly. Meaning looking at my own less than wonderful choices, and why I made them.

I had an experience in my life that had a profound effect on my understanding of motivation. I repressed a traumatic experience for many years. No recollection of it whatsoever. But my actions after the event were directly tied to that which I couldn't remember. To say I was confused is putting it lightly. It was only years later, when the memory returned, that with the help of a wonderful therapist, I was able to see why I did the things I did. Powerful subconscious. Fascinating when you build character worlds.

So I'm loving this. Loving the aha moments. Writing rocks. Not all the time, mind you. Mostly I prefer having written. But for now, I'm one happy freezing person.


03.24.05 @ 11:43 AM MST [Link to Entry]

Winter and a question

Major blizzard happening here. Holy shit. We were supposed to go to Mesquite today, but that's out because damn. Big ass blizzard.

We're going to try again tomorrow. Cause we need to do banking and post office and stuff. And see a movie. It's such a luxury these days. Our little town has no movie theater, and I miss movies!

I also miss sushi. And Thai. And shooting pool on a regular basis. God, I really do miss that. I love pool. I love sleazy bars with great juke boxes.

But I love our little condo with my loft office and the bird feeder hanging next to the icicles. I love so much of being here, but six months of snowy winter is a bit much. It's so fabulous here in summer. Uh, when we have summer. Last year we went directly from spring to fall. I want to go fishing. We have these little blow up boats, where I can sit in the middle of the lake, and we're the only two people there, and the birds zip by, and deer come to drink, and it's like heaven.

We go to this one lake where there are tons and tons of chipmunks and squirrels. I bring sunflower seeds and the critters come right on up to my lap and nibble. Which is great, except for the squirrel that peed on my thigh. But it's quite Disneyesque, and I have to fight the urge to break out in song.

I want to see the Aspens in full leaf, when they shiver and quake in the wind. The sound. Incredible. Because you can really here stuff up here, and you can really see the stars. We're basically alone on a mountaintop. (Very funny aside. My friend Debbi Rawlins also has a condo up here, but she's a part-timer. Anyway, in her bio for her latest Blaze, she talked about coming up here, but they screwed up. We live 9,700 feet up. They put 97,000! hehe).

It's also 4 ½ hours to the nearest airport (Vegas). So going on trips isn't as easy as one would wish. An hour and a half to the nearest decent sized town. Before this, the smallest place I'd lived was Vegas. So it's different. And wonderful. Although we can't get mail delivery up here, and the only courier that will deliver at all is UPS.

Okay, so here's the question of the day: Were you a Slut or a Good Girl?


(Uh, just so we know what we're dealing with here, I was definitely the former)

03.23.05 @ 03:28 PM MST [Link to Entry]

Daydream Believer

I asked my honey the other day, about his daydreams. I fantasize all the time, when I really should be working. And oddly, perhaps, my daydreams are not usually about the book in progress. Sometimes that happens, but it never works when I set out to think about the plot or the next scene. When that happens, it's more like drive-by solutions.

His daydreams were about things he enjoys like riding his motorcycle, fishing, that kind of thing. Although he's also a writer, so he thinks a lot about his books.

My daydreams are elaborate scenarios, detailed, finessed. About all kinds of crap. Stuff that has nothing to do with my real life. It's been like that since I was a kid.

In fact, I was this huge liar when I was a child. Nothing mundane like my dog ate my homework. Mine went more like my parents were good friends with the President, and we were going to the White House for brunch, or that my uncle owned hundreds of horses, and I was going to be in charge of training them (at 10!) or that my father was a spy and he knew the Beatles (as if that was one of the perks of spydom). I told these whoppers gleefully, and it never even bothered me when one of my friends doubted my veracity.

It got a little trickier when my teachers figured out what was going on, and then my poor parents, who didn't have a clue what to do with me. None of us realized that I was simply learning my trade. Lying was bad. I was on restriction. Actually, if you add it all up, I'm still on restriction because when I say I wasn't an easy child hundreds are laughing till they pee at the understatement.

Restriction didn't help. I had no control over the stories, and I still don't. This is going to date me but I've already faced that I'm an old fart, so just deal. I remember playing Man from U.N.C.L.E. at recess, using pens as our communicators. We played Beatles. We played captive and pirate. And never once did any of my friends suggest the plot. Never. It was always me. Probably because I was a pushy bitch from birth, but also because even when I asked, no one could come up with anything. I never got that. How could you not have a billion stories at your fingertips?

What brought this whole thing up was the day I had yesterday. I was not working on my book, but on my workshop for Syracuse, coming up next month. Right in the middle I had this GIANT THUNK about my book. It was so good, so perfect, that I shivered with glee. It adds a whole new layer of complexity to the story, and I wanted to declare a National holiday, it was so sweet. Instead, I jotted it all down, then went back to work.

Gotta love the subconscious. I just wish I had more control over the when and where. But, hey, I'm not complaining.


03.22.05 @ 01:46 PM MST [Link to Entry]

How It Began

I came to writing romance ass-backwards. For all the wrong reasons. In fact, when I decided to write romance, I'd never read one. I was disdainful of the genre. Very superior and rather obnoxious about it. I'd been in the film industry for years, and one thing about making movies is that it is an insular world of insufferable pricks who think they're better than anyone, and I was in deep. All I'd ever wanted, since the age of 10, was to make movies. Nothing made me swerve from my path. I turned down a scholarship to Stanford in my search for the filmic Grail.

So I was doing what I loved. I'd become an associate producer, had produced the very first Rock N Jock special for MTV, had done video editing, I was writing, taking movies through the development process, producing films for AFI, and I was very involved with story and structure, and worked with other screenwriters to get their scripts together.

And then something happened. I became ill. Really, really ill. No one knew what was wrong, and believe me, we tested. I couldn't be on my feet for longer than ten or fifteen minutes at a time. I could no longer do the work I loved, because when you're on a film, you're pumping for twenty hours a day. To say I was devastated is an understatement of epic proportions. I was adrift, and seriously contemplating suicide.

Oddly, the only person I knew who read romance novels was my father. He adored them, and still does. He reads up to three a day. Now my dad is a brilliant man, an inventor and engineer. I used to get on his case all the time for wasting his time on category romance (hell, at that time I didn't even know what to call them. They were just the crap he read). But I knew that those little books with the cringe-worthy covers sold like hotcakes. They were small. I wrote. I could write them. I wouldn't have to be on my feet, I could work from home, where it wouldn't matter if I couldn't use my hands for a few days.

I found a romance writing class through the Learning Tree in LA. Still, I'd never read one. I went to the class, and took notes, and tried to figure out the formula for romance novels. I started my first book. Finally, I read some romance, and sorry, but I still thought, who could believe this crap? It's unbelievably stupid, and anyone who thinks that this kind of love exists is nothing more than a fool. But that didn't even put a dent in my writing. I got out a first draft, which I thought was okay.

The next Big Thing to occur was that the writing teacher put a group of us together for a critique group. We were all unpublished, but the other women had read romance novels for years. This group was a miracle. Unbelievably passionate, articulate, bright women who gave of themselves like you wouldn't believe. Well, you would, but I kept looking for the catch.

In my old world, those I worked with most closely would sooner stab me in the eye with a sharp stick than give me a hand. It was so dog-eat-dog that only the pit bulls survived. So what was with these crazy chicks trying to make MY book better? Where they insane?

Then we went to RWA. The Orange County chapter, to be precise, and there I found a ton of women, all of whom were happily giving out advice, tips, everything they'd learned to get ahead in their careers. Amazing.

I had never seen such open kindness. Never. From complete strangers. I thought they were high. It took me a long damn time to trust it. But because of my critique group, I began to see that my desperate cynicism wasn't doing me any favors. I went back to the book, and looked at it with new eyes. But much more than changing the way I wrote, the experience of being with these women, all these women, was changing the fabric of my life.

My own personal transformation was the last thing I expected when I decided to write romance. In fact, before I went to that first class, I had made an agreement with myself that if I didn't sell the book, I'd kill myself. It wasn't an idle threat. I was very calm about the whole thing. Very sure.

A year later, the idea of suicide had gone. I was still sick. But I could write. I could write every day.

I continued to work with my critique group, and damn, I did sell that first book. Amazing. Oh, did I mention that two of the folks in my group were Susan Mallery and Theresa Southwick? Stunning writers. Stunning friends.

The point of this long involved story is that romance writing saved my life. Quite literally. It was a major turning point, and I'll be forever grateful. I didn't know that my cynicism was killing me. Some day I'll post some stories that'll curl your hair about the atmosphere I lived in. But the women of romance were overwhelmingly generous, supportive and often hysterically funny. Yeah, there were also those that were bitter and competitive, but in my experience, those folks were in the minor leagues.

Oh, and about that whole love thing? Turns out I was wrong. It happens. It happened to me.


03.21.05 @ 01:51 PM MST [Link to Entry]

Small Things

This is an article I wrote ages ago, and since I've been thinking a lot about this stuff lately, I thought I'd post it here:

SMALL THINGS:
Using Details to Enhance the Experience of the Reader

"… it is the small things that break our hearts"
Rebecca McClanahan

I've been doing a lot of thinking this past year about what it takes to hook a reader. It's not just the first page, yet the first page has something to do with it. It's not the characters, although characters have a great deal to do with it. And it's not the prose or dialogue, either.

A reader is hooked when reality shifts. When time in the corporeal world seems to stand still, and the world of the novel takes over. She no longer hears the trample of feet on the stairs or the barking of the neighbor's dog. Instead, she has become a voyeur of the most intimate kind, eavesdropping on conversations, peeping into bedrooms, opening the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. She's privy to a world that is complete. It may take place on Jupiter, but the laws of that universe are concrete and unchanging. When she enters a room for the second time, she already knows that the bedspread has a coffee stain or that a forbidden love letter is taped behind the portrait.

If the fictional world is painted properly, there is no need for the reader to leave until the thing is done. Well, perhaps a fire in her kitchen would jolt her away, but the lateness of the hour certainly wouldn't. Sleep holds no victory over a really gripping novel.

But this magical state happens only if the author has done his or her job exceptionally well. Which gets back to, what hooks a reader? I'm convinced it's all in the details.

In my opinion, there are basically three levels of writing:

1. Mastering grammar, spelling, manuscript preparation, vocabulary
2. Mastering story structure, dialogue, pacing, and narrative
3. Mastering the details



03.20.05 @ 03:01 PM MST [Read More]

Where's the Loop?

I read a lot of blogs that talk about writer promo, and frankly I don't do any. Except for participating on eHarlequin, or sometimes signing at the big whoohoo at National. Actually this post isn't about promo to the public, this is about being in the biz.

When I first started writing, I belonged to OCC, which is a huge chapter of RWA. I went to local conferences, National conferences, all kinds of conferences. I was In The Loop (for an unpublished writer). I continued to participate in the romance writerly life, and was a chapter president, and I spoke at a bunch of places, and basically made the small universe of romance writers an integral part of who I was.

As the years went by, I dropped out, little by little, until the only real connection I had was a group of good friends who spoke to me online. I didn't ease back intentionally, it was just how life was going. Now, I don't have a local chapter, and I haven't been to a conference in a long time. The last one was when I spoke at Moonlight and Magnolias, well over a year ago.

The problem with this is I've lost touch in a number of ways. And it's biting me in the ass. In the involved days, I knew lots of editors and lots of agents and lots of authors. If I needed something, I could pick up the phone and call. I had access. Even if I didn't know someone personally, I knew of them and they tended to recognize my name.

I'm writing a single title now, and it would be Much better if I knew the players. I was never shy, and I introduced myself to everyone, trying hard not to be obnoxious. But I'm very, very outside of the loop. I did it to myself, and dammit, I know better. I was in the film business, remember? Where who you know is absolutely crucial. I got every job I ever had in film (except the very first) because of who I knew.

In fact, as a very young person, I worked at Fox studios, and I made sure I got Involved. I volunteered for all kinds of crap work, so I could meet people. Back then, there was a woman's group on the lot, because affirmative action was coming in to play. So I raised my hand, and became the coordinator. I wrote for the in-house paper. I interviewed all kinds of bigwigs. From this, I not only got a job as a reader for the head of comedy development, I also got my first location job. Someone who knew who I was asked me if I'd like to go on location. She made a phone call, and four days later, I was on the set. I didn't know this woman. But I was a presence.

I used to be asked to speak all the time, but now it's just here and there. Not that I'm the world's greatest speaker, but I was on the radar. Not any more. And I'm doing something about it, because, as I mentioned, it bites.

So I'm going to Ninc in NY. I'm doing a talk in Syracuse. I'm going to National. I proposed a workshop for Reno, but they passed, which I'm bummed about, but oh, well. I just got an invite for the Utah conference in 06, and I said, very happily, yes. Because you never know who you're going to meet. You never know when that connection is going to make the difference.

Yes, the story has to be there. Can't do squat without having the goods. But once you do have it, it helps to know people. Lots of people. Because you never know.


03.19.05 @ 01:04 PM MST [Link to Entry]

Magazines and Keeping Up

I recently bought a copy of Cosmopolitan, and I have to say, I'm way the hell out of the loop. I also heard from my 16 year-old niece that the WB is what teens are watching these days. I don’t watch the WB, and haven't since Angel went off the air, but I'm going to.

What I really want to know is what magazines are folks in their late 20s, early 30s reading? What shows are they watching? I used to be pretty involved with younger folks, especially when I was on the pool circuit. I was listening to new rock, hanging out with single guys. It was great. But now I'm on the mountain, and I don't have access to my usual sources.

I'm also not seeing as many movies as I used to, which is awful. I adore movies, and I used to see EVERYTHING. Of course, in those days, I got to go to studio screenings, so it didn’t cost anything. Now, I wait for the DVD. And even then, I don't see enough.

Back to magazines – my favorite, ever, is O. I adore Oprah and the magazine is unbelievable. If you haven't read it, go, right now, and get it. That's right. Scoot. It's worth it. Especially Martha Beck's column.

I also read First, which is weird because I'm not in the least their target audience. It's one of those guilty pleasure things. I get Gourmet and Cook's Illustrated because now that we live in the great wild, I cook pretty much every single night. Not like when I lived in LA or Houston or Vegas, where going out to eat was the norm. I don't get People, but I like it when they have it at the dentist's office. I also Entertainment Weekly. I also used to subscribe to Time and Newsweek, but now most of the news makes me so angry and upset, I prefer to live in ignorant bliss.

The point of this rambling mess is that I need new magazines, new input, new ideas, and I have no idea what to get. Help.


03.18.05 @ 01:49 PM MST [Link to Entry]

Names and Voices and Headlines, oh, my!

I had a great writing day yesterday! Whoo Hoo! 15 pages and moving the story forward. I do need to go back later and fill in descriptions.

Since I started out as a screenwriter, I tend to focus mostly on dialogue. Which is fine and all, but sometimes my characters are suspended in space, with nothing around them. I admire those who do wonderful descriptions. I keep trying to incorporate it into my writing, but when I'm on a roll, it's about the talk. In fact, it's not possible for me to write my characters without "hearing" them. I need to have the voice in my head. Without it, they're paper dolls.

I know some have to have a visual, and I do, too, but the visual tends to grow as I write the book, while I can't begin without the voice. The right names have to be there, too. Until I feel that thunk, that aha, with the names, I can't hear their voices, and even though I've written page after page about back story, core decisions, transformations, they're not them until they have the right name.

I'm amazed how the name thing matters so much. Do you know there are editors out there who ask authors to change their character names because they (the editors) don't like them??? WTF? Every name has resonance for someone. I had a nemesis in grade school. Her name was Beverly and she and I had an actual fistfight in the playground. Once I realized that unlike TV, being socked with a fist HURT, the fight ended, but still. Beverly and I were like Itchy and Scratchy. So when I read a character named Beverly, I tend to not have warm, happy thoughts.

I also find that I can't use a friend's name in a book, at least for a major character, because I start melding the character and the real person. Sometimes, I will name villains after someone I don't like. Now that's fun. And terribly satisfying. Virtual revenge. Cool.

I mostly need regular names. Jack is a favorite. Nick. Now there's a name that works for me. I've used some unusual names. Trace, for example, but that's because I met a Trace once and he was a major babe. My fave woman's name is Kate. Kate is so wonderful and strong and I think of Kate Hepburn. My heroine in Hush is Piper. I've loved that name ever since I found out that Gillian Anderson named her daughter that. I'd never heard it before then, and I think I'd like to go to a bar one night and tell people my name is Piper.

I can't imagine how hard it would be to name an actual child. Seriously, the naming of characters is so difficult, it would be torture to find the right name for a kid. And what if you find, when the child grows, that the name doesn't fit? Or does the name shape the kid?

My real name is Jolie (gee, wonder where she came up with Jo Leigh as her pseudonym???) and I HATED it when I was growing up. I was the only Jolie. I wanted to be Linda or Jan or anything that wasn't Jolie. But then I came to love it because I was the only one. What's so cool about it now is with Angelina Jolie, there are all these headlines that just use her last name. I've cut out two and taped them to my computer. The first one is: Jolie: Best Breasts in Hollywood. Gotta love it.

The second one is: Jolie Does Denzel. I can live with that.

So, to questions. What do you need to make your characters come alive? Voice? Pic? And names. How? Why?


03.17.05 @ 02:22 PM MST [Link to Entry]

Sounds and Silence

I have this little TV that's right on my desk. I turn it on when I turn on my computer, and on it stays until the computer goes off. Mostly, it's just background noise. I pretty much tune into the same things every day, and the routine comforts me. In fact, I get quite pissy when things are changed, say for holidays. Because I work like a writer, I don't tend to notice holidays until the tv schedule is screwed up.

I know there are writers who need silence. Not me. I think the background of the tv (or sometimes music, but never with lyrics) quiets some part of my brain, letting me focus on the words.

I never really hear the commercials. I just don't. They blur, they blend, and I don't mind them. Now my DH isn't like that at all. He's extremely sensitive, sound wise. Of course, he's worked in sound all of his adult life. After he finished being Rock Star Guy, he was a recording engineer, then he became a sound effects editor. So sound is huge for him, and it's never just background. We rarely listen to anything in the car because he finds it distracting. So if I want to listen, I bring my CD player, because there's nothing I adore more than incredibly loud music when I'm driving, me singing along like I actually can sing.

I'm going to NY in April, and I'm bringing my Neo and my CD player on the plane. While I won't sing along, I will listen so I can work. I just can't seem to write when it's quiet.


03.16.05 @ 03:39 PM MST [Link to Entry]

Hahahaha

This just cracked me up:

03.15.05 @ 02:49 PM MST [Link to Entry]

Iron Balls and Insanity

When I was working in the film business, I used to have negotiate with union reps, most of whom were really big men, and some of them had guns. I'm 5'2 and a girl. It was…interesting. My nickname, at least on two films, was Iron Balls. Which still makes me blush with pride.

Oh, as a total non-sequitor and name dropping galore, I'm watching Ellen and Kevin Pollack is doing a bit on Christopher Walken. Okay, so here's my Walken story: It was 1977 and I was an assistant auditor on The Deer Hunter. I was 21 and adorable, and so green it was actually pathetic. Never been on movie before, never really been away from home, and now I was in Pennsylvania, at a basement bar at the Holiday Inn, listening to a band called The Vibrators. Okay, so I'm at the bar, and to my right is Robert De Niro (who goes by Bobby) and on my left is Chris Walken. I'd heard of De Niro, of course, but Walken was an unknown at the time. I was introduced, By RD to my first White Russian. Then CW asks if I want to dance. Sure, why not. We go to the dance floor, and I see RD coming with us. We dance (imagine the white-man's overbite on my part, smooth moves by CW) and RD is just standing there, right next to us, doing nothing. The dance ends, we all go back to the bar. About fifteen minutes later, we go back to dance. De Niro accompanies us once more, and again, he just stands and watches while we dance. Asked him if he wanted to dance. Uh, no. This went on until we left the bar at about 2:00 am. So this wasn't really a Walken weirdness story, was it? But he was weird. And fascinating. And so was RD. And I was way the hell out of my league.

Anyway, back to the point of this post. I was a tough cookie who did what needed to be done. I have the personality of a field marshal on speed, so there you go. And I went into a spiraling funk yesterday because of the dreaded reviews. Over on a review site, someone said some fabulous things, and then other people said some mixed things, but also not terrible, and really pretty true, and what did I do? I immediately glommed onto anything that wasn't fabulous and worked it like a sore tooth the entire day. Yeah. Fun. We had party hats.

I'm better today, but amazed at the whole process. If you write for publication, people get to have opinions about it. I would never want to stop people from having opinions, even if they're not mine. I have opinions I'm quite sure most people wouldn't agree with, and I'm not giving them up. I'm not a newbie, I've been doing this since 1991. And I can't seem to put it into perspective. Worse, I can't seem to get that I don't have to read them. Insane.


03.15.05 @ 01:57 PM MST [Link to Entry]

Uh....

Okay, so I got nothin'. I've been sitting here thinking about what to write, and damn, I'm boring. It's colder today. I need to write. I still haven't put away the books from my desk. We saw a mountain lion last night. I know! Let's get those heart rates down!

I was going to write about fan fiction (which I read and write) but, naw… Or about my strange and wonderful journey that my SO and I have been on for over 25 years. But it's a really long story, and I'm still on the fence about how personal to get on this thing.

I thought about talking reviews. I used to get lots of reviews at Amazon, and lately I haven't had any. I have no idea what that means. Not that they do much except inflate or deflate my ego, but it's curious. I try to mind my own business about people's reactions to my books, but I fail miserably. I know there are people who never read their own reviews. I'm not one of them. And I always take it personally.

Who knows, maybe something will occur during the day that inspires. But I wouldn't count on it.


03.14.05 @ 12:58 PM MST [Link to Entry]

New Tactics

I was cleaning my desk, which is a large space, and put all the books I'm currently using for research in one stack.

Story Robert McKee
Screenplay Syd Field
Cause of Death Keith Wilson
Poison Dieter Martinetz, Karlheinz Lohs
Police Procedural Russell Bintliff
The Writer's Complete Crime Reference Martin Roth
Armed & Dangerous Michael Newton
Forensics for Dummies D.P. Lyle, MD
Scene of the Crime Anne Wingate, Ph.D.
The Investigator's Little Black Book 3 Robert Scott. P.I.
My Life Among the Serial Killers Helen Morrison,M.D.
The Elements of Grammar Margaret Shertzer
American Heritage Dictionary

And these are just the books I'm actively using that are on the desk. But they're all going back on the shelf. Today. Because I'm screwing myself by stopping every other damn word to look something up. It's a delaying tactic when I don't feel in the story. So all distractions are leaving the immediate area, and if I don't know something, I'm using the ever popular XX. Seriously, I had a two line reference to a poison in the book, and I ate up almost 5 HOURS to find the one I wanted. I mean, please! So, no more looking stuff up until after the first draft is written.

But I do love knowing what other people have on their desks. Internet voyeur, that's me. Tell!


03.13.05 @ 03:42 PM MST [Link to Entry]

Core decisions and contradictions

First, I've been working on the whole issue of "the core decision." I've written articles about it, and I teach it in workshops. The Core Decision is a decision made at a young age (before 10) that a child takes in as Unshakable Truth. This decision is not a conscious one, but it is a survival-based decision. For example, a child who's mother dies can make the decision people I love leave me. There can be other decisions based on the same circumstance. But to the child there are no shades of gray in this decision. It is what it is.

As the child matures, that decision doesn't just disappear. It comes in to play all throughout his life until there is a recognition of the decision and willful new decision to make a change.

In novels, this is where the character transformation occurs, which is one of the most satisfying things that can happen to a reader. Especially if the transformation is organic and rings true.

So, I was thinking about the issue of contradictions, and while it might seem patently obvious to everyone else, I had an aha moment when I realized that the contradictions arise out of the core decision and the opposite of the core decision. The struggle between the child's belief in the absolute black of realization that people he loves leave him, and the absolute white that the survivor in him also must cling to, which is: people I love will not abandon me. It's this battle that has this person entering into relationship after relationship, knowing this is The One, and utterly shocked and despairing when it doesn't last. Because both the black and white are occurring simultaneously. It makes for interesting decisions and actions, that the person in question can't understand.

In real life, I think this is one of the things therapy is designed to help. In fiction, it's the interactions between characters that push the protagonist to face the truth about him/herself. In romance, especially, what triggers the transformation is loving the other. The catalyst has to be strong enough to force the character to face both the black and the white of his core beliefs. In other kinds of character-based fiction, the external events and the choices the protagonist must make need to be that catalyst.

And I think it all needs to be done with subtext.

Thoughts? Confusion? Utter disdain?


03.12.05 @ 04:54 PM MST [Link to Entry]

Terror on the mountain

Here's what's happening up on the mountain. I'm terrified and frozen. And not from the cold. Actually, it's really pretty up here now, but quite drippy. We have about 8 feet of snow on the roof, all of which is melting so that when you want to get out of the house, you need an umbrella. But it reached 55 yesterday and might go higher today!! Whoo hoo!

Back to terror. I'm doing this book that's not a category romance. It's been a long time since I've written outside category, and I'm really freaked about not knowing how to do it. Even though I technically know, my personal fear of screwing it up has me tied up in knots so I'm not writing anything at all. I've been talking to myself about how this is a first draft, nothing in stone, no one's going to see it but me, yada yada yada. My honey has been very supportive, helping me to see that I need to abandon everything but the joy of the writing itself, and while it sounds exactly right, there's this enormous roadblock, which is my brain, standing in the way.

I have totally unrealistic expectations of myself. I think I *should* be writing a masterpiece of awe inspiring proportions, and at the exact same time know that what I'm actually writing is mundane, derivative shit, and the two of me are duking it out, leaving me tired and depressed and about as uncreative as a person could be. So what to do? How do I get the two sides to settle their differences? No clue.

I want to do this. I need to stretch, to go outside the lines of what I've been doing for so long. I love that I have a career that pays me enough to actually live to write, but I want more. I wish I could get back to that place when I first started writing. Before I knew jack about the challenges of writing for a living. I was so excited then, and so damn Brave! I took chances, I truly believed I could do anything. Now, I've become this little terrified little creature cowering in the corner, afraid to put a word on the page. What the hell is up with this? The worst that can possibly happen is that the book will suck. Is my ego so fragile that I can't handle that? Please, don't let that be true. But if it's not my over inflated ego at work here, what else could it be?


03.12.05 @ 03:41 PM MST [Link to Entry]

Contradictions

According to Robert McKee, "Dimension means contradiction: either within deep character (guilt-ridden ambition) or between characterization and deep character (a charming thief). These contradictions must be consistent. It doesn't add dimension to portray a guy as nice throughout a film, then in one scene have him kick a cat.

Dimensions fascinate: contradictions in nature or behavior rivet the audience's concentration. Therefore, the protagonist must be the most dimensional character in the cast to focus empathy on the star role. If not, the Center of Good decenters; the fictional universe flies apart; the audience loses balance."

So along the lines of who we are, and who are characters are, I've been thinking about contradictions. I think one of the problems with a lot of romance characters is the lack of contradiction. That they are what they look like they are. Mostly perfect, with some minor (or major) waffling about why he/she shouldn't love the other. And then there are the books that knock our socks off, and those characters (because it's always character, not plot, except for The Di Vinci Code, but that's a whole other topic, that makes us adore a book) that are full of contradictions and make us care and wonder and cheer for them, because we recognize the contradictions in ourselves.

For example: I'm totally out there, personality wise, in public. I've spoken in front of hundreds of people. Not always well, either. I've fumbled, and tripped, and been embarrassed, and it doesn't phase me all that much. I have a high tolerance for humiliation, I guess. Except that I simply cannot watch someone get humiliated in a movie. I close my eyes, turn the show off, leave the room. I feel their embarrassment so deeply, that I blush, I squirm, and basically have to get myself out of the situations.

So what's that about? And what does it say about me as a character? I have no idea. But I'm going to figure it out. I'm on a quest about this whole thing.

What about you? What are the obvious or not obvious contradictions about you. And what do others see as contradictions in your personality. Ask them. I've been stunned by some of the responses I've gotten. Sooo interesting.


03.11.05 @ 02:43 PM MST [Link to Entry]

Winners, we have winners!

Congratulations!

The three winners of the Alison/Jill/Jo scavenger hunt are:

Elizabeth Banda
Cheryl Strange
Nicole Hulst

From Jill Shalvis - Winners' choice from her backlist
prior to 03/05
From Jo Leigh - Winners' choice from her backlist
From Alison Kent - Winners' choice of The Beach Alibi or
The McKenzie Artifact

(You each need to email us with your choice of prize!)

The answers to the questions are:

Jo - Everyday Hero
Jill - firefighter heroes
Alison - Hall & Oates song



03.10.05 @ 04:42 PM MST [Link to Entry]

Whoo Hooo!

Ooooh, the new DO NOT DISTURB website is live! Hush Hotel!
It's the new year-long series for Blaze, starting in April. The site is gorgeous, and there are going to be contests and extras and tie-ins and stuff, so check it out, say hey on the tag board, and check back often.

(And I'm sorry, but I just have to say I clearly won the cover lottery. Which doesn't happen all that often, so yay!)

03.10.05 @ 06:30 AM MST [Link to Entry]

Who the )(*&)#$ are you???

I've been thinking about a: how tickled I was to get responses about knitting and b: about the question Alison posed about who we are. There are some things that I like that don't say squat about me, and I don't get tingly if others like them, too. For example, I enjoy cooking, it relaxes me, but I don't check out cooking blogs or have a lot of interaction with other cooks. But there are some things that say a whole lot about me, and if you also like these things, then I feel an immediate bond.

Well, sure, the first one is the whole writing thing, but that's the given here.

TV shows I love that tell you something about me: X-Files (through season 7), Buffy, SG-1. Current season fave: Medium. Jumped My Shark: Alias. Getting Close to My Shark: Lost.

I can already feel reactions a comin'. Very personal this taste business, eh?

Stuff I do that I love:

Shoot Pool. I have trophies. Yep, trophies. I kick ass on a pool table, and highly prefer skeezy bars with loud music to shoot in. I also tend to shoot tequila while in these bars. I have traveled the country with my cue and have had many interesting adventures.

Teaching! I adore it. If I could I'd have a regular gig, but only to adults and only to writers, and preferably women because men in my classes have always been weird (which I think is some kind of hierarchical struggle). But it truly makes me happy, and since I have the personality of a field marshal, it suits me, and isn't it odd that I'm living so far from the world, working in such a solitary profession when I am totally gregarious and love social interaction?

Music (duh, who doesn't) but when I have to make a quick choice, these always come up: Steely Dan, Stephen Sondheim musicals, Aaron Copland, George Gershwin, Dave Mathews.

Okay, that's enough for now, but I'd really, really like to hear what tastes you have that you believe illustrate something strong about your personality. This is not just to get to know you (which is the primary purpose) but it interests me in terms of characterization.


03.09.05 @ 10:34 AM MST [Link to Entry]

Fun with research

I've been learning about poison. Weird poisons. Rare poisons. Icky ways to die. Actually, I'm reading about lots of ways to die. My adorable honey is being so, so nice to me. This is actually one of my favorite things about writing. I learn such arcane stuff I'll probably never use.

I remember once I was plotting with a friend of mine at a little coffee shop in LA. We were discussing how to kill someone, and getting pretty into it. I noticed the couple sitting behind us in the booth had stopped talking, and they were looking like they were ready to call 911. Weee! Made my whole afternoon.

FYI, I'm thinking of going with Fugu. You know, the blowfish poison? Talk about your icky death. Doesn't happen much here, but in Japan, there are an average of 700 deaths per year. Wow, they must REALLY like fish.



03.08.05 @ 07:25 PM MST [Link to Entry]

Knitting???? Moi????

When I was in junior high, I had to take home ec, and we had to sew something. Pajamas, actually. I got a D. To say I was not good with my hands is an understatement. I have tried stuff - latch hook (half a project), drawing (it is to laugh), hemming a skirt (I ended up using the stapler). Then my 16 year-old niece came to visit for a few weeks, and she was knitting and it looked like fun. She showed me what to do, and guess what? I liked it. I really liked it! I have now knitted about 12 scarves. I bought a book that shows how to do sweaters and stuff, but they scare me, so I've decided that next Christmas, everyone I know is getting a scarf whether they want one or not. Hahahahah! I have to say, they're really pretty. Very pretty. And soft. And I MADE THEM. I was looking forward to knitting my way across the country when I go to NY next month, but I read you can't take knitting needles on the plane. Which is very sucky. Anyway, knitting - too fun.

03.08.05 @ 06:06 AM MST [Link to Entry]

We've got a winner!

No, not for the joint contest with Alison and Jill, but the first giveaway posted down below.

Random selection (my honey put his finger on the printout) gives the books to Alyssa! Please send me your address, and I'll send the books.

Thanks for playing, everyone!




03.07.05 @ 02:52 PM MST [Link to Entry]

Prizes and stuff!

It's time to go on a blog-hopping scavenger hunt!!

Here are the prizes:

From Jill Shalvis - Winners' choice from her backlist prior to 03/05
From Jo Leigh - Winners' choice from her backlist
From Alison Kent - Winners' choice of either The Beach Alibi or The McKenzie Artifact

Here are the rules:

You must visit each blog and post to the correct topic to be entered in the drawing.
You must use the email link in each blog post to respond with your answer to that blog's question.
Open to all visitors.
Drawing will be held on Thursday, March 10th, at approximately 9:00 p.m. CST.
Three winners will be chosen from those who have answered each question correctly.

Here is my question:

What was my fifth published novel?

Send your answer to alisonkentgiveaway@yahoo.com


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03.07.05 @ 11:01 AM MST [Link to Entry]

I love my computer

Really. I do. It's my internet connection that sucks.

As I've mentioned, we live on a very remote mountain, which not only means we have a billion months of snow, but there's no good internet connection. No cable, no DSL. We can, I suppose, get a satellite system, but the last time I checked that out, we'd need to be way richer. So we have this pathetic little telephone dial-up connection. Our top download speed is 2.8K. That is not a typo. The last place I lived, I had a cable modem, and I bitched about how slow that was. I guess the powers-that-be wanted me to learn patience. Hah. Not gonna happen.

We lose power a lot. We lose phone services. A lot. But it's worth it (most of the time) because our backyard is this amazing Alpine forest, with woodland creatures and gorgeousness as far as the eye can see. In the summer, there are three different lakes all within five minutes of our place. We fish, we walk, we putt around in our little boats. In fact, I take my Alpha Smart with me and write as I watch the fishies swim by.

But I digress. I was bitching about my internet connection. My morning email got eaten by some wicked computer monster. As I'm sure you'll agree, this sucks. I probably got that email from the Pulitzer committee. And the one where I win the million dollars. Damn, I hate that.



03.07.05 @ 07:39 AM MST [Link to Entry]

In Dreams

Woke up this morning desperate to get to the work in progress. I'd dreamed about something I'd missed, although I have no recollection of the dream itself. But the urgency was there, and the fix was there, too. I love that. I want to solve all my problems in my sleep, and wake up to immediate solutions.

Twice, I've dreamed new stories that turned into actual books. A few times I've dreamed scenes, one of which was this really fun elevator scene in Hot & Bothered. I still get email about that, which is also cool.

I didn't go to sleep thinking about the book. In fact, I was thinking about something completely different. But evidenty the subconscious writer was steeped in the story, busily working while I did other things.

Now if I could just figure out how to get the subconscious writer to type, everything would be sooo much easier.

03.06.05 @ 07:27 AM MST [Link to Entry]

Work, work, work and a trip to town

The view from my porch

My honey surprised me last night and took me to town (a big deal here, especially in winter since we don't have a 4 wheel drive vehicle). We went to the Chinese restaurant. Again, big deal as we have very, very few restaurants here. Smaaaaal town. It was so nice to get out, especially at that time of night because all the deer come down and have their evening snacks so everywhere you turn there are deer with their little white butts. Also turkeys. Lots o' turkeys. And last night was eventful because we didn't have any of the Evil Deer who like to jump into the side of our car when we're not looking.

We had a nice stroll down memory lane, where we were coming up with all the different professions we've had. Mine were: bookkeeper, secretary, location auditor, associate producer, line producer, editor, writer. The one I hated most? Bookkeeper. What was I thinking???

I have to say, I haven't had a normal life, but I've had a fascinating life. I've been so broke you'd laugh and point, but I've followed my passions and I wouldn't trade it for anything. Well, maybe the bookkeeping job. That sucked.

I love hearing about what we've done to pay to the rent. Weirdest job? Most wonderful? Bring it on.




03.05.05 @ 07:12 AM MST [Link to Entry]

What's up for today

Busy day ahead. First, plotting with a friend on the phone, which is always fun. For some reason, I'm better at plotting when the heat is on - when the conversation is live and spontaneous instead of thinking about it for awhile. Hmm. After that, I need to work on the worksheets for my upcoming workshop in Syracuse. It's on the Core Decision, and it's a relatively new workshop for me, but something I'm very excited about. I'm certainly using the techniques for plotting my newest books.

Then it's on to working on the ST. I'm in chapter two, and it's so interesting approaching the book with no boundaries. I have multiple POVs and the challenge is pacing, increasing tension. When I'm not scared spitless, I'm terrifically excited by the challenge.

Also, just signed a three book deal with Blaze, so that's cool. In addition, it looks like I'll be doing a Blaze anthology - a time travel! What's my time period? WWII, which is so cool. I think that was my true era. I love the music, the clothes, the optimism in the face of enormous odds.

And tonight is a new SG-1, which makes me happy. Now if I can just stop coughing...

03.04.05 @ 05:19 AM MST [Link to Entry]

My First Giveaway

Okay, I've got some of my older books, actually, Silhouette Books - Suspect, Hunted and Everyday Hero - to give away.

All you have to do is tell me what you're looking for in your daily blog reading experience, and you're entered! I'll be picking out the winner Monday 7pm Mountain Time.

03.03.05 @ 11:19 AM MST [Link to Entry]

And now for something completely different:

Five Things That Make Me Absurdly Happy:

1. "Cuppa tea, cuppa tea, almost got shagged, cuppa tea."
2. Copland's Quiet City
3. A perfect paragraph
4. Diet Barq's Root Beer
5. When he touches the small of my back






Yours, please?

03.02.05 @ 07:58 AM MST [Link to Entry]

Research

This new book that I'm working on has led me on an interesting road. I've been reading lots of books about serial killers, criminal profiling, speed dating, sound effects, crime scene procedures, FBI procedures, Hollywood Homicide, forensics, skinning knives, and the Hollywood Roosevelt hotel. God, how I love the internet! Finding sources, both on web pages and in books, has never been easier, but there still is no substitute for one-on-one interviews.

I learned that lesson early, with the first book I wrote for Silhouette. It was called SUSPECT, and I realized as I was writing it that all my police information wasn't gathered from the police, but from movies and books about the police. So I went right to the source. I got to hang out with the chief homicide detective at the Hollywood division. He took me to a crime scene, let me explore the crime lab truck, witness an interview, look at the crime scene books, hang out at the jail…and he spent hours just talking with me. A large plot point changed from our discussion, and it came out infinitely better. Much more realistic and powerful. So now, whenever possible, I go for the interview.

I've spoken to FBI agents, gone to a federal penitentiary, talked to food stylists, architects, artists, cowboys, private detectives, and more I can't remember at the moment. And every time I add the personal interview, I'm amazed at how the book changes, how it opens paths I'd never have seen doing only online or reading research.

Now, though, I need to find another FBI source. I'm hoping to hook up with a Violent Crime Resource Specialist, but I'll settle for a public relations person. Since 9/11 it's been a lot harder to get the personal connections. I need the jargon. Every field has it's own "speak" and the FBI is no different. Those touches can make all the difference.

So I'll call and write and do what I can. However, if someone, say an FBI agent or friend of an agent, or acquaintance of an agent, happens to be reading this blog, that would be very cool.

The only problem with doing this kind of research is knowing when to stop and write the damn book.


03.01.05 @ 07:35 PM MST [Link to Entry]

Ugh

We've caught the evil crappy crud up here in Elk Meadows. Both my honey and myself are sick, sick, sick. Thankfully, I stocked up on cold meds last time we were in town, but I don't know if I bought enough. And since there's been a billion inches of snow, it's not so easy for us to zip to town. So I'm whiny and cranky. Which makes it very difficult to write. Although I've learned through experience that it doesn't matter all that much how I feel or what I think about the work of the day. Looking at it later, it may not be the best thing ever written, it's usually not terrible. Evidently, the subconscious writer doesn't get sick. Or maybe that's what writer's block is. The inner writer, the one who knows far more than I do, not only takes over and finishes the story when I'm panicked and disheartened, it tells me in very unsubtle ways that I need a break. Although I had my break, and now I'm in work mode, except for the sneezing, the coughing, the kvetching...you know.

I'd also like to say a word of thanks to the Kleenex people for putting lotion in their tissues. Good job.

03.01.05 @ 04:27 AM MST [Link to Entry]