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Month: May 2014

If you haven’t learned that yet, my friend, you will

Okay, the story is now less crappy than it was a week ago. And still not done.

I think it’ll be done Sunday. Which then will give me a few more days to let it stew, then revise, then send off to the anthology editor.

I have killed many darlings in an attempt to trim wordcount, including a Companion politely telling his Herald to take a stick out of his posterior. IT WAS REALLY HARD CUTTING THAT JOKE YOU GUYS.

Interestingly, Scrivener doesn’t give numbers for amount of time spent in each section, so I’ve no earthly clue how many writing hours I’ve poured into this.  I should track this someday; I would love to know if hours spent writing is equal to my hourly wages plus benefits.

I have often commented that part of why I don’t feel the drive any longer to become a Known Writer is that I have gainful employment that doesn’t suck. It’s a curse and a blessing…but mostly a blessing when you have a household to support.  I would love to make enough money as a Known Writer, but based on what I know of the writing biz I am skeptical of being able to do so without selling my soul or writing the next Sookie Stackhouse.  Or selling my soul to write the next Sookie Stackhouse.

I wouldn’t mind selling novels AND working at the gainful employment that also provides health care and retirement benefits. I would like to keep my soul intact. Assuming writing marketable novels is in my future, this could all be very possible.

And “The Whitest Lie” is an incredibly apropos song for this story.  So much so that I am tempted to name the story after it.

If I lied, said I was fine
Would that mean anything?
The more you know,
The less you eventually find out.

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You say Malesa, I say Maresa….

Somewhere during the five-odd stories I have written thus far about my little Bard, I changed the name of one of the supporting characters for no other reason than I forgot how I spelled it originally…oops.

Also, having re-read all the stories (more or less), I think “Broken Bones” is my favorite. I know I am not supposed to play favorites, but that story was me working through some life issues that completely reversed midway through writing it, and I like the structure.  And the story.  The whole thing, really.

Lelia started out as a Mary Sue, and I’m not afraid to admit that. I wanted something lighter in tone than my previous Valdemar offerings, and the only way I knew to get there was to write what I knew, which was my then-loveless, struggling, and often hilariously off-kilter life. Somewhere, she stopped being a Mary Sue and started being just Lelia. I do paint echoes of my life into hers, or I did; there is actually a real-world counterpart that she became somewhere around “Otherwise Engaged” and I don’t really know how I feel about that. It wasn’t intentional. It just happened.

Anywho. All this is running around in my head as I set about on the next writing adventure. I meant to bang out most of the story this weekend, but caught a cold, and this morning had a raging migraine. The migraine has now passed, and I am once again banging away. Or would be, but my save file didn’t update on Google drive and I am waiting for a chance to rescue my laptop from my bedroom, where my husband is napping….

Long story short: I am writing.

And Malesa is now Maresa.

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Another Year….

…another Valdemar anthology.  This story will continue the Adventures of Wil.  That’s all I’m saying about it right now.

Mostly, though, I’m trying to find something longform I want to write.  I’ve been somewhat in a slump, and it’s possible that has everything to do with getting-married-buying-two-houses-having-a-baby but it seems unfair to blame life, like I didn’t have life before all those things.  It does seem the more you bring people into your life, the less of your own, private life you have.

But Marion went through similar (and worse), and still managed to write, so the question is why haven’t I carved out the time? Well…I’m trying. Mainly what I’m trying is getting up earlier so I can write in the morning, before the other humans start encroaching.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love my humans.  Very much.  My family is the best thing that ever happened to me.  But I tend to be better adjusted when I write, when the private world gets a chance to vent.  I know that.  I just need to find a way.

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