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Three Cups Later Posts

New Site, New Design

Well, I did it.  I installed WordPress and tweaked the hell out of the default template.  It works in IE and Firefox.  If you aren’t running those and it looks like ass, I apologize, but oh well.

Other blog will be going down shortly and redirecting here.

I should note that I have been writing, but because I’ve been waiting on updating this thing, I haven’t been writing about writing.  Irony!

Aaaand it’s way past my bedtime.

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brain pimple

::pokes brain::

::ideas squirt out::

….ewwwwww.

Still working out ideas. I’m giving each story its time. Outlines starting in a week or so, due to hijinks with birthdays and V-Day and so on.

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what now?

That’s what I always ask myself after every completed project. Okay. What now?

I did a leisurely cruise through my old (1 year+) story starts and…I love three of them. Possibly even four. I can’t write three (four) novels at once, though, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last ten years, it’s this: there should always be more irons in the fires and no story is your darling.

(Except when it is your darling, but I suspect you can only ever let it be your darling when you have five bestsellers published and the NYC editors breathlessly waiting for your next submission — but that’s for another time.)

I used to let a novel be my darling, and I would ruthlessly write, and rewrite, that one story until it was a tattered flag waving in the wind. That way, my friends, lies madness.

No story is my darling anymore, but I still love three (four) of them, and the conclusion I’ve come to is I’m going to outline all three (four) and then decide which one to write. And once I finish one, I’ll have an answer to “What now?” Move on to the next one, of course.

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submitted

And changed the name back to “Midwinter Gifts”, which comes perilously close to violating one of my personal rules of writing (never title a story “The Gift”), but it’s a pun so I’m okay with it in this case.

Also, I now have glasses.

This is what a life of writing for a living in one way or another will do to you, kids.

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Also…

As much as I have enjoyed using movable type, I’m probably going to convert the blog to WordPress simply because it confuses me much less. And I am old and cranky and cannot be expected to keep up with all these newfangled technologies GET OFF MY LAWN YOU DAMN KIDS.

Anyway.

Expect that later.

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Mostly Done

And I renamed it to “Midwinter Madness”. I’m not happy with the title, but I’m happy with the story, and that’s what matters.

It gets sent off to the publishers tonight. Hurray.

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sovvan’s greetings

It’s still a working title. Perhaps something better will seize me in Mexico.

Which is where I am headed for a vacation with the guy. I hope — well, I need — to have the story in rough draft format before then. I would write tonight, but I’m going to a sleep study instead. Bah humbug!

That leaves Friday and Saturday, which is fine. I already have Friday’s meal half-finished, and Saturday the guy and I will be staying up all night because our flight leaves at 6 AM, which means we need to be up at 4 AM. Which means we just don’t go to bed. :P

So we are at the 5500 word mark, and that leaves me 1500 words to still play with. Then I will mercilessly eviscerate the story, and it will be awesome.

And eventually, I’ll figure out what novel I’m writing as a follow-up.

Fun!

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yup

Words. About 1500. I will probably backtrack, though, and omit the second of the two scenes. I did this with the last story — a great deal was told from perspectives that I ultimately omitted in order to keep the focus on Lelia.

It’s not lost work, however; it’s more like research. Knowing what the other players are up to — super awesome helpful. And I may have to add some scenes with Wil’s perspective anyway; I miss writing Witty Companion Banter™.

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solitary creatures

Him, from the bedroom: “It’s quiet out there.”

Me, on the couch in the living room and typing: “Yup.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m writing.”

A pause. “Writing writing?”

“Mmhm.”

“Ohhhh.”

There have been many serious discussions between me and The Guy about personal time, which both of us — being older adults, being solitary creatures — need on a regular basis.

I have told him I’m not the kind of chick who needs to be by his side 100% of the time, and he nods and says he understands, but I suspect over the next six months he will really come to understand as I slide back into writerly things.

I’ve been dealing with deadlines from hell and The Guy moving in, but I do actually hope to get some substantial writing on Lelia done this weekend. And if not this weekend, then certainly the next, when the first round of holiday visitations end, and I can pretend things are normal for a little while.

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hooked by the nose

I’m sewing up my D&D campaign for a couple months. I’ll be redirecting my creative brainpan on the Lelia story.

I hate to put D&D on hiatus, but I believe in the finite resources of the creative well, and I know when mine is starting to dry up. I am not a bottomless pit of creativity. No one is, and anyone who claims to be otherwise is either a) lying, b) insane, c) a college student, or d) on some really great drugs.

A good chunk of my creativity is automatically eaten up by work. I am building a world and cultures from whole cloth, and while a genre writer can temporize and finish the culture when she gets to book three of the trilogy, a creative team actually needs to know what’s going on in my brain before they can concept oh, say, the jellyfish energy-being race that got wiped out in the cataclysm that almost imploded the universe.

This is where writing for genres and writing for games differs wildly, and I suspect it’s one place where genre writers find difficulty in working on games. If you’re used to giving away your secrets slowly, in prose, it can be a rude shock when the publisher/producer/lead designer demands to know exactly why This Race died out and how you expect to bring them back in a way that will make sense to the players.

And over on the personal side…well, I am contractually obligated to write about Lelia, and I have enough of a lead that I’m ready to let my scruffy muse-Bard hook me by the nose and drag me back down into the depths of her world. She’s gone to a slightly dark place, but I have ordered her not to get emo on me, and she has solemnly sworn not to.

So the D&D campaign gets sacrificed on the altar, and I get some of my creative energy back as a result. But every ending leads to a new beginning. One of my players has expressed interest in continuing with a different campaign, and that’s groovy.

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