Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category
A Quick, Drive-By Bloglet…
Folks, I’m still working hard at CHANGING FACES. I now feel confident of about half the manuscript; I’ve deconstructed it, reconstructed it, and it’s reading better and faster according to my editor.
As I said in my last bloglet, I am putting everything I have into this book. I haven’t reviewed a book in weeks; I haven’t written much of anything besides CHANGING FACES; and I haven’t edited anything in weeks, either. (I did proofread a very short story for a friend, but that was about it.)
The hope here at Chez Caffrey is that I will get this book put to bed by the end of October (yes, six days away from now — that October).
After that, I hope to start a new editing project or two. I also have two other stories hanging fire (one’s a novella, the other one’s a short story)…never a dull moment.
But then again, I like it that way.
As for concerts — the next one on the slate is in December, with the Racine Concert Band.
Anyway, that’s my update…what’s going on with you all?
Trying to Figure Something Out…
Folks, for the moment I’ve hit a minor lull in CHANGING FACES. I know where I need to go, but my subconscious seems to be telling me…well, I don’t really know what.
(Thus the title of this blog-let. But I digress.)
I hate it when my subconscious, or backbrain, or whatever it is, knows more than me, but refuses to tell me whatever it is.
It’s like a little kid with a secret. “I know something you don’t know. Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah!” (Sung in your best childhood singsong voice. Naturally.)
Because of this, I wasn’t able to get much done last night. (I did get some, and some beats none…but the clock is ticking, and I know it.)
The only good news is that I probably will review something either Friday or Saturday. (Or if you get really lucky, on both days.) Because if my backbrain/subconscious/whatever refuses to cooperate, I may as well review a book or two. (Right?)
Hope everyone else’s creative endeavors are going along swimmingly — or whatever other term you’d rather have to depict your own writing/music/art/creative pursuit of your choice.
Scribbling Away Madly…or Something Like That
Folks, I’m still working hard at CHANGING FACES. I had hoped to have my rewrite done by now, but it’s not done yet.
I’m happy with what I’m doing, mind. I just worry because I can’t write as fast as I used to…and I think there’s a story behind that.
You see, when Michael was alive, he and I used to talk writing all the time. We’d discuss our stories, what was vexing us (usually what was vexing me, but sometimes he’d be vexed, too, with his stories and I’d help him out), and being able to talk about these things immediately helped me write at a much faster clip.
And it’s not just that Michael and I used to talk about everything, though we did; it’s that he was a phenomenal editor. He could find areas that I had unintentionally glossed over and helped me flesh them out; he fixed any possible errors before anyone else saw them; he could double-check whether my plotting worked or I had to go back to the drawing board.
Having Michael there to help me was an enormous help. I didn’t worry so much that I was doing it right, and my sneaky, snarky Editor Voice was much quieter — it knew that if I didn’t pick up on the problems, Michael would.
All of that allowed me to write with greater flexibility, greater freedom, and with much better speed.
Mind, I’m very fortunate that I have at least two very good friends who are exceptional editors. I can trust them. They know me, know my style, know at least some of the stuff Michael saw instantly and can and have told me when I need to fix things. Which is all very good.
The main thing to remember, though, is that my writing process has changed somewhat since Michael died. For one, I incorporated much of his style into my own writing. For another, even though I feel Michael’s love all around me (and very blessed to have it, too, as I well know), it’s not the same as having him right there at my shoulder, where I could turn and ask him, “Hey, what do you think of that?” and get immediate answers.
See, to Michael, I was his top priority. (As he was mine.) And my stories mattered to him, just as his mattered to me.
While I can sometimes write thousands of words in a day, now, it’s rare. Usually I can get a thousand or maybe two thousand, especially when I’m doing a rewrite and am trying to juggle all the balls I know need to be juggled while getting all the bits and pieces of story to fit together again.
If it makes any sense, Michael used to help me hold those pieces. He could remind me of where they went, even if I forgot.
Now, I have to remember all that myself.
I have been called a “meticulous plotter” before. I take pride in this, as odd as that may sound. And I want my plotlines to stand up — I want people to know I’ve thought them through, in order to provide verisimilitude and resonance, in order to help you get immersed in my stories (and my husband’s, too).
So while I’m going to continue to work very hard on CHANGING FACES, I don’t know if it’ll come out before the end of this year or not. I do know that if I keep working away, I will get it back to my publisher in a week or two (providing I don’t get badly stalled out, which I pray I don’t).
And because that’s the most important thing going on here, everything else — blogs, book reviews, editing, everything — has to take a back seat to that.
I hope that you all understand.
A Writing Update (Such as it Is)…
Folks, I’m at the point in my manuscript where I can see daylight ahead. The journey is starting to come to an end…
But before I can end this particular journey, I have to get through a cloverleaf or two. That have major roadblocks, not to mention setbacks.
When I get this frustrated with any manuscript, I usually try to take a step back and figure out where I’m going. But in this case, I know exactly where I’m going; it’s just that some of the particulars about how I’m going to get there have changed.
So it’s a new and different problem I’m dealing with. It means I have to feel my way through, take my time, figure out what’s going to happen, so I can turn in the best possible manuscript.
I hope this does not mean I’ll miss my publication window for the end of 2015, mind. But the longer I struggle with my manuscript, the less likely it is that I actually will hit that window at all.
Of course, if I weren’t going for e-book publication, there would be no way in the world I could possibly hit the window…but I digress.
What I’m dealing with right now, folks, is where anxiety meets frustration. My strategy has always been to admit that I’m frustrated, and also admit that I’m anxious about being frustrated.
Then I do my best to get on with the job anyway.
This is easier said than done, mind. Because I have to experience the anxiety, experience the frustration, and then tell myself, “OK, Barb, you’ve experienced that. You know how you feel. You’ve acknowledged this. Now set it aside, and see what happens next.”
This is a strategy my late husband Michael told me about. Oft-times, it works — even with impatient, hasty me.
Anyway, when I can’t write, I’m not easy to live with. I get quite cranky, in fact…so I’m sure that everyone around me hopes, as I do, that my solution to fixing my manuscript and hitting my late 2015 window lies just around the corner.
Further updates as I have ’em.
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One good bit of information to pass along: As I’ve signed the contract (and it’s been countersigned and I’ve been given permission), I think it can now be told…I’ve sold my third story in the Darkover universe (created by Marion Zimmer Bradley, and continued by Deborah J. Ross), which will be published in REALMS OF DARKOVER during 2016. The story is about my judge, Fiona, as a thirteen-year-old girl, when all she wants to do is become the first-ever female court clerk in the Hellers (a wicked mountain range on Darkover)…and we get to see Fiona’s parents, happily married — Gorsali, a Renunciate (Free Amazon) of Darkover, and Dominic macAnndra, a sitting circuit court judge.
Naturally, it’s called “Fiona, Court Clerk in Training.”
#MFRWHooks Wednesday — A First Look at CHANGING FACES!
Folks, every Wednesday, the Marketing for Romance Writers Organization does a blog-hop called “MFRWHooks” (with the addition of a hashtag for Twitter). This gives readers a chance sample the work of authors they may or may not know, in order to build interest for books that are either already out, or are coming out soon.
As I am a proud member of MFRW.org, and as my novel CHANGING FACES will be coming out soon, I thought it was about time I put something up to build interest.
What the #MFRWHooks Wednesday blog-hop needs is a cover (fortunately, I have an excellent one, courtesy of artist Tamian Wood), an introductory blurb, and a few lines from the novel itself. (I do not yet have a buy link, so I can’t add that just yet.)
So, here we go!
The blurb:
Allen and Elaine are graduate students in Nebraska, and love each other very much. Their life should be idyllic, but Elaine’s past includes rape, neglect, and abuse from those who should’ve loved her—but didn’t, because from childhood, Elaine identified as transgender.
When Elaine tells Allen right before Christmas, he doesn’t know what to do. He loves Elaine, loves her soul, has heard about transgender people before, but didn’t think Elaine was one of them—she looks and acts like anyone else. Now, she wants to become a man and is going to leave.
He prays for divine intervention, and says he’ll do anything, just please don’t separate him from Elaine…and gets it.
Now, he’s in Elaine’s body. And she’s in his. They’ll get a second chance at love.
Why? Because once you find your soulmate, the universe will do almost anything to keep you together—even change your faces.
And here’s a few lines from CHANGING FACES; note, this is Allen’s perspective:
Why does Elaine want to become a man? Why? What have I done wrong, that she should want this? I must have done something wrong, something terrible, for her to want this…
Inwardly, I prayed, hoping that God existed and would hear me despite my usual disbelief. Oh God, if you’re listening . . .please don’t take my beautiful Elaine away from me. I’ll do anything, absolutely anything…
My reverie was broken when the car went into a skid. “Hang on!” I yelled, while I turned into the skid. That should’ve gotten us safely off the road, albeit into a ditch…but it didn’t work.
Instead, something big, something solid, was in the way.
Something that shouldn’t have been there.
“Oh my God!” Elaine screamed.
I tried to reach out to her, to reassure her, but I couldn’t. My body just wouldn’t respond.
Before I could worry about that, the world went black.
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I hope this has intrigued you.
Keep your eyes peeled for further excerpts from CHANGING FACES…but for now, go take a look at the other authors taking part in this week’s #MFRWHooks Blog Hop!
Encouragement: Not Just for Breakfast Anymore? #InspirationalStuff
As a writer, sometimes I need encouragement. Advice. Support.
And, like most of you, I don’t always get it.
So what can I do on days when I don’t feel encouraged?
Usually, I just put my mind to the task and do it anyway. But lately, I’ve been wondering this question: What if I tried to encourage myself, rather than tear myself down?
Why is it that we feel like there’s something wrong with self-encouragement? Why can’t we treat ourselves as gently as we’d treat our friends? Why can’t we give ourselves the encouragement we need, when no one else is doing it?
Interesting concept, no?
But how do you go about all that, when you don’t even know where to start?
Like I said, my tendency is to realize I’m not going to be encouraged, and just go and do it anyway. So what I do is look over what I have of my work-in-progress. Sometimes I add a little here, take a little out there… Then I get an idea, and I’m off to the races.
Even so, wouldn’t it be easier if, just for today, I told myself what I’d tell my friends?
So here’s what I want to tell you, if you’re feeling discouraged today:
- Keep trying. You have a good idea. You just have to trust yourself.
- Don’t give up. You’ve worked too hard for too long on this project to let a moment of discouragement derail you.
- Believe in yourself. You can do anything you put your mind to, if you just keep going.
And if you still feel discouraged — if the above does not help you, because you’re ill or feeling tired or have physical limitations (all things I completely sympathize with) — I want to tell you this:
I, too, have days where, due to my physical limitations and other health issues, I must rest.
I hate those days, but they are necessary. They recharge my batteries, so I can come back stronger and better, more able to take on the challenges in my current work-in-progress, more willing to keep fighting.
Also, inability is not at all the same thing as unwillingness. It’s one thing to be unable to do something today. It’s another thing to be unwilling to do it.
That’s why I am a big advocate for listening to your body. If it says, “No,” go rest. If it says, “Maybe,” give it a try. You might just surprise yourself.
So, when you need encouragement, refer back to this blog. And remember to treat yourself gently, the way you would a friend.
It might just help you.
Monday Morning Musings: The 11th Anniversary of Michael’s Death…and a Request
Over the years since my husband Michael’s death, I’ve commemorated his passing a number of ways.
I’ve written about how important he was, the positive difference he made in my life, and about how much I loved him. (Still love him. I don’t think love goes anywhere. But I digress.)
The one thing I perhaps haven’t written about is what Michael liked to do.
While Michael wasn’t one of those “hail fellow, well met” types (and just as well), he enjoyed being around people. (Then he enjoyed going home and being away from people. A balanced life, as it were.)
Michael also loved to write. And if he could write something touched someone–or better yet, tickled someone’s funny bone– he counted that as a good day.
(Well, every day was a good day, so long as he was alive. But again, I digress.)
Because today is the 11th anniversary of my husband’s way-too-early death, I figured I’d ask a favor of you.
First, if you knew Michael, please come here and tell me what you remember most.
Second, if you ever read any of Michael’s work, let me know.
Third, I’d like it if you’d pick up a copy of one of five things: “A Dark and Stormy Night,” “On Westmount Station,” “Columba and the Cat,” “To Survive the Maelstrom,” and of course AN ELFY ON THE LOOSE. All of ’em are e-books, which Michael loved (he jumped onto the e-book bandwagon long before most people); all of ’em have some shred of something Michael told me in there, or better yet, some of Michael’s own words there.
Then come back and let me know.
Why do I ask these things? Well, it’s simple. I often feel alone, as if I’m the only one who’s grieving my husband’s death. And while I probably am grieving the hardest (especially after eleven years), there are others who do remember my husband. And remember him with fondness.
While I’ve contributed to all of the above things–and while I wrote AN ELFY ON THE LOOSE–I have discussed Michael’s importance at the end of every book or story I’ve written. (Or story that I’ve finished for him, in the case of “On Westmount Station” or “A Dark and Stormy Night.” Though “finished” is a bit much for the latter; I added a few touches, that’s all, to make it a legal collaboration in that case.)
I don’t know how many people read the very end of the book, but in every case, I’ve talked about my husband. Because he was incredibly important to me, and without his influence, I wouldn’t still be trying to make it in the crazy business of publishing.
So if you want to know why I still remember my husband, buy one–or more–of these stories. Then come back and let me know.
Now, I’d best get back to revising CHANGING FACES, as if all goes well, it’ll be released sometime in late October or early November as an e-book.
Musings on September…and Mortality
Folks, it’s no secret that I do not like September.
Why? Well, the main reason is that my husband Michael died during this month. So when the weather turns to fall (or at least the calendar does; in Wisconsin, we’re still in summertime mode for whatever reason), I start having trouble with all sorts of things.
You see, it’s hard to create when you’re fighting against grief. Because grieving takes energy. A surprising amount of it, actually…and even though I try hard to set that all aside, sometimes I just can’t.
Mind, I know my husband Michael would not want it to be this way. He was all about laughter, and joyfulness, and creativity…this isn’t the legacy he’d want, for me to feel terrible during the month of September.
Even so, I feel what I feel. Trying to change that doesn’t do any good.
So what do I do when grief gets to be too much? Usually, I read something amusing or divert myself with sports documentaries. (I’m quite partial to ESPN’s “30 for 30” series.)
Sometimes, though, I just have to experience the mourning. I don’t like doing this, but by accepting these awful feelings, I can better put them aside. (I learned this trick from Michael, who was a Zen Buddhist. He felt it made no sense to deny how you truly feel about anything. But if you accept the feelings, whatever they are, and then tell yourself, “I’ve heard them” or “I’ve felt them,” then it’s a little easier to set it aside. I’m not sure why this works, exactly, but it does.)
What’s frustrating is when I run into someone who says, “Barb, it’s been eleven years. Why in the Hell can’t you get past this?”
I know it’s been nearly eleven years. Yet some days, it feels like yesterday; on others, it feels like forever.
Michael was by far the most important person in my life, and I miss him every day. He saw me for what I was, loved every part of me (even the parts of myself I have a hard time loving), helped me create the Elfyverse, cheered me on while I wrote an earlier draft (or two) of CHANGING FACES…he was my biggest cheerleader, my biggest partisan, and my best friend, along with being the only man I’ve ever met who truly understood me.
Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to “get over” his loss. Because it truly is an incalculable loss, and I am well aware that it is. And I refuse to deny this truth, because if I did, I’d be a much different — and far lesser — person.
Besides, I don’t think you ever “get past” someone you loved deeply. I think all you can do is go on; you don’t “move on,” exactly — you go on, with the memories you have and the experiences you’ve had, and you do your best to build on them.
I know Michael would want me to continue to fight it out with CHANGING FACES, and he’d probably say in the end, no one will be able to tell just where I’ve struggled, and why.
So even though September, in general, is a bad month, I’m going to continue to do my best.
Michael wouldn’t want it any other way.
Barb Caffrey's Blog 