The End ... ?

Well, it turns out that where I stopped last night was pretty much the end of the major revisions that needed to be made. Everything from that point to the end of the book was already "done" - just a few minor changes here and there based on the group notes from the BMWs and voila!

It's done.

Truthfully, the word meter looks like this:

79,677 / 90,000 (88.5%)

But, if you take into consideration the final adjusted total, based on the fact that in its present version, it's pretty much ... well, "finished", then the meter looks more like this:

79,677 / 79,677 (100.0%)

Wah-hooooooooo!

So, I didn't meet the 90K goal this time around. I'm sure there's probably more to add at some point. At any rate, it's in JT's hands now. Provided she doesn't get her own edits to do in the next few days, we're hoping she'll have a bit of time to go through this and look for the basic problems: plot holes, inadequate character development, unanswered questions, too much tell/not enough show.

So, with that burden off my back, I'm taking the rest of the night off. At 9:15. Ha.

Tomorrow I start a fresh month of things - interviews, profiles, book reviews. I might even take my own advice and read a book or two, just for the fun of it.

For now, it just remains for me to thank Colin Mochrie, Stephen Frost, Greg Proops, Ryan Stiles ... no, wait. Wrong show. Sorry.

This is me, Clive Anderson, saying good night. Good night!

A quick update

I'm calling it a night after a very productive day:

79,294 / 90,000 (88.1%)

How's that for progress? JT and the WMVR helped me brainstorm the filling for another plot hole, and I'm much happier with that chapter now.

Tomorrow I'm going to hit the ground running and see if I can't crank out another 2,400 words.

Onward!

What was I thinking?

It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.
-- Aristotle (Greek critic, philosopher, physicist, & zoologist, 384 BC - 322 BC)

76,852 / 90,000 (85.4%)

Microsoft Word has a lovely function that allows the user to make comments within a document. I use this to make myself notes throughout a manuscript - things like, "fix POV", "add more description", "make sure this moves the plot forward", and then as I go back through the manuscript, I'll look at those comments and do whatever they say to do. Every so often I'll make a note that when I look back at it, however long later, I have no idea what I meant by it. I came across one of those in the past couple of days. I'm still trying to figure out what I was thinking.

As you can see by the word meter, I wrote approximately 1,000 new words yesterday. Today and tomorrow are devoted to getting this thing finished so JT can run through it before she has to start work on her edits (which should be arriving any day now). Plus, I need to get this out of my hair so I can move on to the other things which are patiently waiting on my desk for my attention.

Two of the four Literary Siblings (i.e. Brett and Sandra) are at Bouchercon, the World Mystery Conference. JT and I hope to be going next year (possibly the year after for me). This conference is a big deal. BIG. There is more to do in four days at one of these things than you could possibly imagine. Or so I've heard. The only conference I've ever been to is the wonderful Murder in the Magic City, a terrific one-day conference presented by the Southern Sisters, the Sisters in Crime chapter in Birmingham, Alabama. I had the honor of participating on a panel in 2005, and these folks know how to do a day filled with great authors (usually about 20 on four panels plus two guests of honor), great books and great fans in a very cozy and relaxed atmosphere. I've met so many terrific folks at MMC the past four years, some of whom will be in my circle of friends and contacts for years. Now, take that and multiply it times four days and times about, I don't know, a gazillion authors, and that's Bouchercon. Just looking at the panel schedule is dizzying. This could be a place to get lost in the crowd so easily.

I can't wait to go.

And to go, I need to finish and sell a book. So what am I still doing sitting here musing?

It's going to be a glorious weekend here in Middle Tennessee. If it's doing the same where you are, enjoy it. And read a book.

=) JB

39-1/2

The Tall One's assistant basketball coach and his wife had a baby a couple of months ago. We got to see her Tuesday after the volleyball match. A precious, tiny thing with a head full of dark hair, bright eyes, and perfect skin. My children are 6'4", 6' and 5'4", and I can't help but think that they were never that small, but I suppose they were once. Hard to believe, looking at them now, but we all have to grow up sometime.

Last night the BMWs got together again, not to work but to enjoy each other's company for a very relaxing evening at one of Nashville's treasures, a restaurant called The Mad Platter. One of the ladies in our group is not only a writer but also a gifted artist, and a show of her paintings is on display there. So the group got together for dinner and a quick once-around tour of her paintings. I wish I could describe the vibrant colors and vivid imagery that she captures so well. JT made the observation that this lady's "talent leaps off the canvas", and she's so right.

The conversation turned to a recent celebration of a "six-month anniversary" (no details here to protect privacy, sorry), and JT says that half-birthdays count, too. I used to think that when I was younger, but then forgot about it once my twenties were history. But her comment got me to thinking, this Saturday I will be 39-1/2. So as I contemplate the fact that I will be 40 in six months, I must also contemplate whether I've accomplished the things in my life that I had hoped to accomplish by this milestone.

I went through a period of minor trauma 9-1/2 years ago, when I turned 30. (Okay, it was more than minor - I had a major meltdown.) The WGH and the WMVR decided (quite unwisely, I might add) to throw me a surprise birthday party. It was not a good idea. But I've gotten past it. Forgiven them for doing it and forgiven myself for getting so bent out of shape about it. What upset me so much was that I thought I wasn't where I needed to be in my life. Now I'm on the sunny side of 40 and I'm asking myself the same questions. Only this time I have more satisfactory answers.

Our Sunday school teacher, who turned 40 within the last year, says that he's viewing the next 40 years as "the second half of his life", and we're to ask ourselves, is the second half going to be better than the first half?

You know what I'm thinking?

Oh, heck, yeah! Bring it on, baby!

Happy half-birthday to me, happy half-birthday to me ...

Yesterday there was more editing done:

75,861 / 90,000 (84.3%)

I reached a point where I need to write new material and fix some plot connectivity issues, so that's on my plate this morning. I was hoping to have this thing finished by the time I turn 39-1/2. With tomorrow and Saturday being pretty much free and clear, I just might get there.

Read a book. It's good for you!

=) JB

It's official - the world has gone crazy ...

News of the bizarre and strangely sad: Paddington Bear is a murderer. I'm just devastated.

So, we're somewhere in the mid-60s (chapters, not degrees) and the WIP is finally looking like it's going to hold together. The 1850 words I wrote Monday, whether inadvertently or intentionally I'm not sure, tie two plotlines together that previously didn't have any visible connection. This is a good thing.

I didn't add much more yesterday - nothing like my burst of creativity the other day - just a few edits here and there, so the official word meter has inched forward just a touch:

75,382 / 90,000 (83.8%)

Today I'm hoping to add a little more, but I'm getting a late start because Little Bit had an orthodontist appointment this morning. One of those Mom things I get to do occasionally.

Music of the Moment: Tchaikovsky, 1812 Overture, Op. 49 (conclusion)

There's just something about those hammering chimes that gives me goosebumps.

Read a book. Enjoy the sunshine. It's good for you.

=) JB

Eighteen Hundred Fifty

No, not the year.

Not dollars, either. Although that would be nice.

I'm talking words, baby. As in, I wrote 1,850 words in a brand new chapter in the WIP yesterday. So now the word meter looks something like this:

75,085 / 90,000 (83.4%)

How cool is that? I actually buckled down and the creative juices just started flowing. Granted, my idea for the chapter and the way it actually turned out were polar opposites, but it's a decent scene and I think it'll fly. I had fun with it, and for me, that's the key to good writing. You have to enjoy what you're doing. And right now, I'm enjoying the heck out of it.

While I'm on this roll, I'm going to buckle down again. I've accomplished quite a few of the household chores already this morning, and the WGH just left for a meeting, so I have a few hours to make good use of.

Now, if I can just get the cat off my desk ...

Read a book. It's good for you.

=) JB

Getting the Worm

I am proud to announce the official launch of the new website and blog for Killer Year, the Class of 2007. The new looks are fantastic. There's a veritable plethora of information on the website (www.killeryear.com), and a great introduction by International Thriller Writer Marketing Committee Chair M.J. Rose on the blog. Awesome stuff from my Literary Siblings - Brett Battles, JT Ellison and Sandra Ruttan - as well as KY cofounder Jason Pinter (all of whom have been interviewed here at the Lunch Room - check the archives).

I am also tickled to announce that the Killer Year inaugural class has asked me to do interviews and write profiles for several of the members, which will appear in upcoming issues of Spinetingler Magazine, a terrific crime fiction publication spearheaded by Sister Sandra and her husband. The first set of interviews will appear in the Winter 2006 issue, with more to follow in the Spring, Summer and Fall issues next year. I'm so honored to be part of the marketing and promotion campaign for this phenomenally talented group of writers. Start saving your pennies - the Killer Year is almost here.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled Monday morning ...

Read over your compositions, and wherever you meet with a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out.
-- Samuel Johnson, from Boswell's Life of Johnson
English author, critic, & lexicographer (1709 - 1784)

I took a little break from writing this weekend. The weather was a little unnerving here on Saturday. Fortunately, we didn't get the really nasty stuff like the upper Midwest had, but it still rained. A lot. Reports out of Hopkinsville, Kentucky, just an hour northwest of us, recorded nearly 12 inches of rain for the area. Now, my nephew will pipe up and say that's nothing - as he informed me not long ago, there were areas of Hawaii that saw something like 9 feet of rain at one time. Can you imagine?

Here's something I borrowed (okay, stole) from my buddies over at The Writing Playground. It's a word meter - something to keep track of my word count as I'm working on the WIP. Several of the Playfriends are working on novels, and they use this really cool little tracker to post their progress. So, I'm stealing their idea. What I found out was that it's from Zokutou, which is a group of writers who met doing NaNoWriMo. I was a NaNoWriMo winner last year, and I'm seriously considering doing it again. What's cool is that the Zokutou group has created what they call The Zokutou Clause, which states that if you are a previous NaNoWriMo winner, you can build on your previous 50,000 words and finish the novel you started without having to start a new novel from scratch. So, if I do decide to do NaNo this year, I shall invoke the Clause and finish that book I started, which hasn't been touched since November 30, 2005. It would be good for me to get it done.

As for the present, however, finishing the current WIP is my #1 priority. To that end, here is my word meter to date:

73,102 / 90,000 (81.2%)

The 90,000 is a rough goal. When the story's done, it's done, and I'll update the final word count then.

McCartney has been getting up at 6 a.m. recently. The time change is coming up soon, and if he doesn't adjust with the clocks it will be 5 in the morning when the McCartney alarm goes off. In which case the mutt and I will need to have a chat. I don't get up that early to go fishing. Yes, the early bird and all that, but still. If the sun's not up? Are you kidding me? 6:30 is plenty early, thank you.

I'm off to dig for worms now. I have a book to finish.

Music of the Moment: Rockin' Into the Night (38 Special), courtesy of John Boy & Billy

That's enough to get me "cruisin' down the motorway ..."

=) JB

Junkie

"We do not write because we want to; we write because we have to."
"There are three rules for writing the novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are."
-- quotes by W. Somerset Maugham, English dramatist & novelist (1874 - 1965)

I'm addicted to a lot of things. Here, in no particular order, are a few of the things I thoroughly enjoy and cannot imagine giving up:
1. Reading.
2. Writing.
3. Television.
4. Computer games.
5. Chocolate.
6. Music.
7. Harry Potter.

There are probably a few more that should be added to the list, but I think that's quite enough to be getting on with.

Today I'm going to spend some quality time with #s 1 and 2. Possibly 4. Always 6. It's Friday, and of course that means my schedule is a bit freer. The WGH called and asked if I want to go shopping when he gets home from work. Well, no, not particularly. But we are in need of things (like, um, food) and so I suppose I must. Yuck.

I'm in the midst of a show of sympathy for my Literary Triplet J.T. Ellison. Her Murderati post today is just heartwrenching. Things like this should not be allowed to happen. It's just sad and wrong.

Where yesterday was glorious, today is a bit dreary and wet. McCartney decided he wanted to stay outside in the rain for a while. When I finally got him inside he was quite sloppy. Luckily his coat is just starting to grow out again from the summer's grooming and he was easily toweled off. Unfortunately, getting him inside was a trick, so now my personal scent is rather reminiscent of wet dog. Ewww. A shower may be in order. Later. First, I must write.

I'm powering forward with the WIP. In skimming through things yesterday I discovered that the first 41 chapters (no panicking - most are fairly short) are pretty much solid. The ending is strong - as a matter of fact, to toot my own horn, I think the new ending is abso-bloody-lutely brilliant (we'll see what the BMWs think). Dividing the book into three sections, the first is good, the last is good - it's the middle that sags. I think that happens to a lot of us. We write a good strong opening and a good strong ending, and the story falters in the middle. That's where the bulk of the rewrite will have to be focused.

Enjoy your Friday. Shalom to those of you who celebrate Rosh Hashanah. It might actually be a relatively quiet weekend at my house for a change. Shhhh, don't say that too loud. I have teenagers.

Music of the Moment. Holst's Second Suite in F, Op. 28, No. 2

A delightful piece. One of my memory makers.

Read a book. It's good for you.

=) JB

A Chill in the Air

Autumn officially begins tomorrow. There's a distinct crispness to our air this morning. All right, it's downright frigid. All the windows in the house are open and I'm sitting here in sweats, shivering, but it's glorious. We're going to be warming up to summer temperatures again this afternoon, but for the moment I'm rather enjoying the chill. It's a change, something I don't normally deal with well, but when it comes to the weather, autumn in Tennessee can only be described as breathtaking. There are two places in the world that I will argue are quite possibly the most beautiful in autumn. One of them is the entire state in which I now reside. The other is Brown County, Indiana. These are the places you travel and look at the landscape, the brilliant fall colors, the glory of nature, and you have to ask yourself, "How could anyone witness this and say there is no God?" It just brings tears to my eyes.

Rosh Hashanah begins tomorrow at sundown. I have a friend of the Jewish faith, a great guy I've referred to here before as my expert on all things kosher. I learned about latkes (pronounced laht'-kees, in case you didn't know) from him. If you've never had a real kosher latke, go find a good kosher deli somewhere near you and have one. With sour cream or applesauce. Oy, is it yummy.

I was trolling the blogosphere a bit this morning, catching up on a few posts from yesterday. There are a few you should peruse:

My Literary Siblings and the Killer Year bunch have pages up at MySpace -
JT Ellison
Brett Battles
Killer Year

Sarah Weinman cracked me up with a trip down memory lane -
"Shiny Happy Peppers"

Little Sister Sandra has a new look to her blog (love it, btw) -
On Life and Other Inconveniences

Killer Year cofounder Jason Pinter is now a married man and is on his honeymoon -
The Man in Black

And, my buds over at The Writing Playground are into their usual fun -
The Writing Playground

A bit on cats. Haydn (pronounced high'-duhn - after the composer) is the middle of our feline children. I've just spent a few quality minutes admiring his poise and balance. The bookcases in my study are side by side along the front wall, next to the window, which is recessed into the floor so that it's level with the ground outside (kinda difficult to explain the visual on this). The window has a railing that goes up about three feet off the floor of the study. The railing itself is only about three inches wide. Haydn decided he wanted to do a bit of exploring (the whole curiosity killed the cat thing), so he jumped up to the top of the railing, perched there for a minute, then attempted to get up onto the bookcase. Now, the flaw in his logic is that there are stacks of books on top of the bookcases (my infamous TBR pile). Just to help satisfy his curiosity, I helped him up to the top of the bookcase so that he was rather crammed into the narrow space between the backs of the stacked books and the wall. He couldn't really go anywhere - backing up would have meant falling off the bookcase, and going forward would have put him behind the seven stacks of books (yes, seven - I'm not exaggerating), which probably would have resulted in his knocking them onto the floor. I moved two of the stacks so that he could get down, and he did, landing quite gracefully back onto the three-inch railing around the window. Kind of like the gymnastic balance beam. It's a distraction, but they're fun to watch. You have to wonder what's going through their little kitty brains sometimes.

Now that the distraction has moved on to seeking out a comfortable place to curl up and cat-nap, it's time to settle in and work. I'm so very pleased with my progress on this book. JT is chomping at the bit to do the first read-through. It's amazing how much the story has changed from where it started, but I think it's all the better for all my agonizing and self-searching. Once it's done I'll have to share that story with you. In the meantime, it's still darn cold up here and I need more coffee.

Read a book. It's good for you.

=) JB

P.S. In case you've been missing the Lunch Room interviews and the Critic's Corner, I promise they're coming back soon. I told Sandra and JT yesterday I need a huge dry-erase board calendar to put on the wall so I can keep up with all my assignments and deadlines. Sigh.

Is the fire still burning?

Apparently, I've been missed ...

When I get emails from my friends asking "why haven't you blogged lately?" I guess it means I need to get off my duff and check in with the rest of the world. I've been wrapped up in my own little corner, between volleyball matches and trying to finish this book.

Before it's over - Music of the moment: Owner of a Lonely Heart (Yes)

That's one of those songs that gets your motor running. Oh, wait, that's Born to Be Wild, right? Never mind. Time to switch back to Beethoven.

The good news is, I found my desk. Yes, I can actually see the top of it. And, I covered some serious ground with the WIP this weekend. Had a lovely lunch on Saturday with the WMVR, her cousin visiting from out of town, and her daughter, and the four of us sat in a booth at Las Palmas and hashed out a much better ending for this book. For a few shaky moments, the cousin and the daughter weren't quite sure what language the WMVR and I were speaking, but there came a time when the WMVR said something, and I stopped in mid-air, and the darling daughter pointed her finger at me and said, "THAT'S the look we were waiting for!" She knows. She's seen it before. It's when someone comes up with one tiny idea, and the writer says, oh boy can I run with that.

We writers keep saying this is a solitary business, we have to do it alone, et cetera, et cetera, blah, blah, blah, ad nauseum. Baloney. Ahem. I've said all this before, in a different context, but it doesn't hurt to revisit the subject every once in a while. (Disclaimers to follow.)

Yes, to a certain extent, we do this alone. We have to put the words on paper ourselves. It's our name on the book, our editors we have to deal with one-on-one, our butts on the line, dependent on the success or failure of the finished product.

But show me a writer who during the writing process doesn't utilize invaluable resources like an independent reader, or a critique group or partner, or even just a great friend who is willing to flop across the bed like a couple of teenagers with a legal pad and a pen and brainstorm for a couple hours, and I'll show you a writer whose work has become lifeless and devoid of emotion. The passion in our work becomes greater when we have someone to share it with who actually gets it. I get excited when I describe what I'm working on and the response is, that sounds great! That's all the encouragement I need.

Does James Patterson have this? Patricia Cornwell? These are big names in our world, and I don't know their answers to that question: Is the fire still burning? You'll come to their defense and say, they wouldn't be cranking out one best-seller after another if they didn't have it, but I respectfully disagree. They're cranking out best-sellers because of their names. And yes, they got there because their first few books were really good. People expect best-seller material when they pick up a name like theirs. But is it there? Or did the fire die a long time ago and they're just cranking out the books for the sake of sale and profit?

I hope I never get to that point. Yes, I want to sell books. But more importantly, I want people to buy them because they're enjoyable to read. If I can entertain just one person for a few hours, it's worth the effort. And I don't want to ever ... EVER ... lose that joy I feel when everything falls into place.

To be fair, there are writers out there whose work just keeps getting better and better, even long into a series. Take Lee Child, for example. The guy knows how to write. He's got the passion. You can see it in each and every Jack Reacher book he's written. (You can see it in his eyes, too, but don't tell him I said so - he's a Brit, and they're supposed to be rather stoic, as I understand it.*)

So, this is what's on my mind today. And on my plate, the final touches on the WIP. Progress will be made.

Read a book. Look for the passion. Is that fire still burning?

=) JB

* Yes, that remark was tongue-in-cheek. If you didn't get that, you need to go back into the archives and get to know me a little better. ;)

The State of Things

Never tell anyone that you're: writing a book, going on a diet, exercising, taking a course, or quitting smoking. They'll encourage you to death.
-- Lynn Johnston, For Better or For Worse (7-15-06), Canadian cartoonist (1947 - )

Today I have to find my desk. This is something I've been putting off for a while, and the past two days with the WGH off have been less than productive ones in the JBTAuthor study. I never get anything done when he's home. I shouldn't say "never". I hardly ever get anything done. He's an owl by nature and sleeps in on his late days or days off, so after the kids head for school this lark has a limited amount of time to herself to get things done. Mostly I read - emails, blogs, news headlines, etc., and can usually get caught up on that, at least. The good news this week is that we went on a cleaning binge yesterday morning, so the house is presentable enough that I can devote my entire day tomorrow to the WIP.

On my plate today is finding my desk. Once that is accomplished I will be able to scratch some other things off my list.

I discovered something a little disturbing yesterday. I was going back through some of my previous posts, and I came across a few where I actually waxed eloquent on some very interesting and intelligent topics. Hmmm ... there's something I can add to the To-Do List: Get SMART again.

Nyeh. Maybe tomorrow.

A member of our family I'm not sure I've introduced you to yet is Smokee, our little gray tabby. The boys, Haydn and Sebastian, outweigh her by two and four pounds, respectively, and yet she's the instigator of most of their squabbles. This is my house, even though I'm only four and have only lived here for two years, so get the &*%#$ out of my way. (Sounds like the kids sometimes - is the youngest child always the one who starts the fights?) At the moment Her Royal Feline Highness has ensconced herself on my desk - yes, smack in the middle of the mess. She'll be the first thing I have to clear off to find what's underneath all those stacks of papers and books and college brochures and my daytimer and ... and ... and ... well, you get the idea. I have a lot of work to do.

Music of the Moment: Brahms' Hungarian Dances #5. Makes me want to put on a froufy skirt and start clogging. Well, maybe not.

Read a book. It's good for you.

=) JB

Places to do, things to go ...

We have so much time and so little to do! No, wait, scratch that. Reverse it.
-- Willie Wonka, from Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971)

Well, here it is Monday morning and I'm sitting at my desk wondering where the last three days went. By in a blur, for me. More volleyball Friday night (which made us miss the high school football game - which we did win, rah) and Saturday all day - we got home later than last week but didn't have to get up as early so it wasn't such a wearing out kind of thing. Sunday was church. The kids and I were getting ready when the WGH called and said one of his fellow orchestra members had four tickets to the Titans game and did he want them? Free, I might add. People can be such a blessing sometimes. So, the WGH and the kids went to the game after Sunday school. My afternoon didn't go exactly as planned, but it's a long, wet, hairy story involving Chinese food, the garbage, a pop-up thunderstorm and the dog that I'm not sure is worth sharing (maybe tomorrow if you really, really want to hear it). We topped the whole weekend off with the Indianapolis-NYGiants game (go Colts), NBC on the "big screen" TV in the basement. Fun stuff.

September 11. All day today there will be stories and news reports and updates commemorating the anniversary of the most horrific terrorist attack on the U.S. in our history. I remember what I was doing that day (that whole week, really) and how it affected the whole country. I'm not here to preach, but my feeling is that all those people who say the war is pointless should sit down and talk with a Viet Nam veteran - provided you can get them to talk about it. They'll tell you about pointless (trust me - my Dad was there). At least with this war we're actually accomplishing something. Now, don't jump on me and tell me I'm wrong. It's what I believe, and if you don't believe the same thing that's your prerogative. Just remember today that a lot of people gave or lost their lives, whether willingly, pointlessly or not, so that you could stand on your soap box. 'Nuff said.

Ringo. When the WGH and the kids first brought McCartney home, the WGH wanted to name the dog Ringo. I said no way in ... anyway, we settled on McCartney, or Mac for short. (These days he has lots of names, some of which I can't repeat in mixed company.) Now, I told you that story to tell you this one. The other night, the WGH came home from work quite late. He was in the kitchen getting a snack and turned on the television. I have no idea what channel it was or how he found it, but there was Ringo Starr in a live performance. The people in the audience were dancing, waving their arms, and generally having a good time. The WGH remarked that it was like a Wiggles concert for adults. I thought that was profoundly amusing.

Grammar lesson. I've been thinking about this for about a week. One of my biggest pet peeves when I'm reading a book is coming across instances of poor grammar. I'm not talking about typos here. I'm talking about flat-out, blatant misuse of words. The one I hate most at the moment? Than vs. then. So here's a quick lesson on proper use of the two. Pay attention. Take notes.

Then. According to Merriam-Webster online, the word "then" can be used as either an adverb (most common - meaning at that time, soon after that, being next in a series, in addition, in that case, as may be inferred, as it appears, or as a necessary consequence), a noun (meaning that time) or an adjective (meaning existing or acting at or belonging to the time mentioned). Not to be confused with than, which is either a conjunction (a -- used as a function word to indicate the second member or the member taken as the point of departure in a comparison expressive of inequality; used with comparative adjectives and comparative adverbs [older than I am] [easier said than done] b -- used as a function word to indicate difference of kind, manner, or identity; used especially with some adjectives and adverbs that express diversity [anywhere else than at home]) or as a preposition (meaning in comparison with). DO NOT EVER say/write "older then I", "better one then another", or "greater then these". Argh.

Product placement? The other day I happened to catch an episode of As Time Goes By on BBC-America. I love Dame Judi Dench (among other and all things British). During a couple of scenes something caught my eye that just tickled me. Dench's character, Jean, was lying in bed, reading a book (which I think she did often) - I couldn't see the title, but the author's name was big as you please on the front cover of the book: Ruth Rendell. I've never read anything by Rendell but have a lot of writer and reader friends who really enjoy her work, so I've heard the name. I'm going to have to pose the question to the illustrious mavens and moguls on DorothyL as to whether this is as common a practice on British TV as it is here.

Places to do. I've revamped the To-Do List yet again (it changes every week). I'm telling myself, as I do every day, that I am going to accomplish something.

But first, breakfast.

Read a book. It's good for you.

=) JB

Ketchup Part II

WARNING: Before reading this, put down all beverages, food or anything else that might mess up your computer if it comes flying out of your nose or mouth. I'm serious. Consider yourself warned.

So I'm reading back through about 200 posts on Miss Snark that I've missed over the last several weeks, and I come across one from early July (I know, smack my hand) entitled "oh dear dog, words fail me" and I click on a link for a post that made the indomitable Miss Snark snort vegetable lo mein through her nose.

Brace yourself, put down the drink, and read this.

I am wiping tears of laughter as we speak, and it's been a long time since I've laughed until I cried. Hooooo, I needed that. Thank you both, Miss Snark and Miss POD-dy Mouth, whoever you are.

Ketchup

No, I'm not talking about the condiment. This is my "free" day - no kids, no WGH, no time constraints because I don't do my part-time job on Fridays. And yet, I have so much to do that I don't know where to start. The Orkin guy is scheduled to come today, the house needs to be vacuumed, the dishwasher emptied and reloaded, the laundry folded and put away, beds made, and my lengthy to-do list needs to be tackled - interviews, reviews, and of course, the WIP. Not to mention I have oodles of reading to catch up on.

So what am I doing? Indulging myself a few minutes of utterly mindless entertainment with the MSN Game Zone. I'm addicted to a few of them - Cubis, Chuzzle, Bookworm. It's almost as detrimental to my productivity level to turn me loose in the Zone as it is dangerous to turn me loose in a bookstore with a credit card. But it helps me relax and focus at the same time.

So, when my mind is clear, I will do housework in between writing stints. We had a very productive BMWs meeting Wednesday night, and I have a pretty good idea now of where this thing is going. Only 10 pages to go, one more meeting, and the gang will have been through the entire first draft. Now I just have to finish the rewrite. ;)

Sometime in the next few weeks I'll be resuming my Lunch Room interviews. We have lots of great authors on tap, so stay tuned.

In the meantime, read a book!

Music of the Moment: Beethoven's Symphony No. 1. Lovely stuff. Just what I need to relax and focus. That and the Zone.

=) JB

No rest for the weary ...

"She could give herself up to the written word as naturally as a good dancer to music or a fine swimmer to water. The only difficulty was that after finishing the last sentence she was left with a feeling at once hollow and uncomfortably full.
Exactly like indigestion."
-- Jean Rhys (1894-1979) Welsh-Dominican writer

There comes a time in every writer's life when her days start running together so fast that it's Tuesday and you're still on Friday.

I have best laid plans for today, but first let's catch up a little on why I still think it's Friday:

Volleyball, football and volleyball. We left early Friday afternoon and drove an hour south to go to an invitational volleyball tournament in which The Tall One's high school team was playing. After playing (and losing) two matches, we drove back home and made it to the home football game just before half-time, which is a good thing since The Boy is in the band and we got to see the show. The second half of the game was great, but it was 10:30 by the time we got home, and we had to get up at 5:30 Saturday morning and go back to the volleyball tournament for three consecutive matches at 8:00, 9:15 and 10:30. That was pool play (teams are divided into groups and everyone in the group plays each other). After a quick lunch break, tournament play began, only they forgot to schedule refs for the Silver Bracket (ours, of course) so we ended up having to pull into the Gold Bracket and play single-elimination instead of double, so we were done after losing the first match in three very close, very exciting games. By the time we got home Saturday afternoon, The Tall One, Little Bit (whom I dragged along, but she ended up getting to help at the scorer's table since she manages her middle school's team) and I were so exhausted that we all crashed out for naps.

You can see why I was wiped out. You're probably tired after reading that paragraph, aren't you? And yet, we're still only on Saturday afternoon.

No food in the house. I go grocery shopping once a week, generally on Friday or Saturday. Since my Friday was otherwise preoccupied (between actually getting something accomplished on the WIP and then all that other stuff), and then Saturday up until around 6:00 p.m. was a wash, The Boy and I decided to do our grocery shopping Saturday evening. With little fundage left in the grocery budget. Luckily for me, our local grocery store has a special deal in the meat department where you can "Pick-5" - five items from the specially marked stock (which varies) for $19.99. A great deal, if you can find five things that suit your fancy. I got lucky Saturday. They had so much stuff marked "Pick-5" that I had a hard time deciding what to get. After much deliberation I found my five items and between that and what we still had at home I managed to plan out dinners from Saturday night through Thursday.

The Dunk Tank. We had a very special occasion to celebrate Sunday morning at church. Little Bit "asked Jesus into her heart" (out of the mouths of babes) a couple of years ago, but for various and sundry reasons we never got around to getting the kid baptized. Due to the diligence of our church staff, who kept after me until we finally got it on the schedule, she went into the pool Sunday morning. It was kind of cute - her entire Sunday school class (a gaggle of 12-year-old girls) sent up a great big cheer when she came up out of the water. Yes, we Baptists do it by immersion (Matthew 3:13-17; Mark 1:9-11). The WGH decided the occasion warranted our going out for dinner (Little Bit's choice) after I finished work Sunday evening. She chose the Pizza Hut Italian Bistro. Ya gotta do the Bistro. They have a pasta dish called Santa Fe Chicken that will roast you from the inside out (jalapeno cream cheese sauce) but it is six thousand kinds of good. Their combo meals - pizza and pasta for howevermany - are the best deals you can get. After an order of garlic bread with cheese, five salads, two pasta dishes, two pizzas and three desserts (split five ways), we came home fit to burst and a little lighter in the wallet, but it was well worth it.

A day of Labor.Does it seem fair that I should have to work on Labor Day? Well, that's my schedule - Sunday through Thursday, and if it's a holiday, tough rocks. Actually, it's not too bad, as I get paid time and a half for working holidays. Plus, it's a cake gig. I have no complaints. I managed to run out of work three hours into my four-hour shift, so the WGH and I set about cooking up an old-fashioned lakeside fry-fest in our kitchen. Dinner was a greasy but delicious affair. Between Sunday at the Bistro and the Labor Day cholesterol-fest, I don't think I'll be able to eat again for ... hours.

Back to the routine. I resumed my walking this morning (probably a wise idea, considering). It's tobacco harvesting time in Tennessee. If you've never experienced the sweetly pungent scent of a tobacco barn during firing, with the smoke on the morning air so thick it's like God pushed the clouds down and left them there, you have missed a true rural treasure. As I've mentioned before, we live in an area where livestock, open air and tobacco barns abound. I love the smell of a tobacco barn during firing season. The WGH tells me what I smell is the sawdust they burn to fire the tobacco leaves, but you can't tell me that some of that aroma isn't the scent of the leaves themselves intermingled into the smoke. I am not a proponent of cigarette smoking (in fact, am vehemently opposed to the nasty things), but I will readily admit I love the scent of sweet pipe tobacco. We have a friend who was born and reared on a farm here in our county who can tell you all the different varieties of tobacco and their various identifying characteristics, how long it takes to cure, harvest and fire the plants, and what kind of market trade is involved. I really don't care about all that, aside from the fact that it's kind of a neat little piece of history. I just love the smell.

I have a lot on my plate today, including pages for Wednesday (good grief, that's tomorrow!) night's BMWs meeting. I'm looking at printed pages on which I've scribbled so many corrections in red ink that it looks like the paper is bleeding. But what comes out in the wash is going to be all the better for my cuttings and scratchings. We're getting close to the end of the tunnel, and I'm finally seeing a little flicker of that light that I know is there somewhere.

Music of the Moment: The Great Gate at Kiev, from Pictures at an Exhibition (Mussorgsky). For being a fruitcake, the guy composed some pretty fabulous music.

Read a book! I just finished another really good one - Shirley Tallman's Murder on Nob Hill (see link under The Reading Room list at the left).

=) JB

Out of a deep sleep ...

Life can't defeat a writer who is in love with writing, for life itself is a writer's lover until death.
-- Edna Ferber (1885-1968) US writer

The phone rang at six o'clock this morning, startling me out of a very sound sleep. The WGH was calling to vent - one of his employees had called in "sick" (conveniently, after having yesterday off) and it's going to screw up his whole day - and to let me know he doesn't have any idea what time he'll be getting off this afternoon, which in turn will probably screw up my whole day.

One of the things about being awakened from so far under is that at first you're not sure where you are. Or even who you are. After I hung up I lay back down, but my mind, which had heretofore been blissfully unaware of anything going on around it, started working. My first thought was that I had to run uptown to the grocery and buy a gallon of milk. I actually got up out of the bed ... for about 30 seconds, which was how long it took my brain to put on the brakes and wait for the rest of me to catch up, at which point my body crawled back into the bed, telling my brain that we'd go in half an hour, when the kids were up and getting ready for school.

It all worked out, of course - got the kids up, ran to the store, ran the kids to school - and as I was pulling back into the driveway at 7:30, my brain was finally awake enough to remind the rest of me that I actually have the entire morning to work on this book.

As usual, life intervenes. After checking email and a phone call from the WMVR, it's 9:15 and I'm just getting ready to dive in. But progress is being made. I worked on one scene yesterday that had been problematic and managed to smooth it out to some degree of satisfaction. Today, I'm working on the end of the book - the BMWs don't know this yet, but we're only about two meetings away from the end of my first draft. After all they've been through with me on this book, I think it's only fair that I include them in the rewriting - so (and I can hear the groans now) over the next few months I'll probably be bringing in rewritten scenes, to see if they measure up a little better with the group.

I told you, it's a process. Funny how some readers actually labor under the misconception that writers can crank out a book from beginning to end, start to finish, with no vetting, no critiquing, no second, third or fourth drafts, no endless hours of research, no blood, sweat or tears, no sleepless nights, no deadlines, no demanding editors ... oh, such a place exists, of course. It's called Fantasyland.

Sometimes, even our spouses don't get it. Tess Gerritsen did a great piece on her blog back in late July about how hard it is to be married to a writer. I'm one of the fortunate ones. The WGH doesn't quite get what I'm doing, but he understands the whole pursuing your dream thing - we had a pretty frank discussion one day about our finances and how we're moving forward, saving for college and retirement, and how my quitting my full-time job has affected that. I made a comment to the effect that I knew he probably didn't understand my wanting to pursue my dream. He gave me this incredulous look and said, "You married a musician!"

Yeah, I said, I guess you do get it.

I may have told you that story before. If I have, please forgive the repetition. It's that short-term memory thing. That, and I'm too lazy to run back through the archives to check.

Right now, I have a dream to pursue.

Read a book. Remember how much effort went into it. Hug a writer today.

That's good for you, too.

=) JB