WIP Wednesday -- "Rules were made to be broken"

I'll just go ahead and say it -- y'all were right. It was just a phase, and I'm all better now. A little better anyway. Since my crybaby tantrum last week, I've edited almost another 100 pages, including the long middle section that needed the most scrapping, rewriting, and scene-adding, and its all gone pretty smoothly. Most of you suggested taking some time off and putting some distance between myself and my manuscript, and believe me -- I would freaking love to do that right now. But I promised my agent a solid second draft by Thanksgiving, and I am a man of honor. And dignity. And fancy socks. And maturity.

All this revising has me thinking blasphemous thoughts, though. And disagree with me if you like, but sometimes, you has to writes bad to do goooder. I agonize over each and every instance of it, but sometimes, after restructuring a sentence thirteen different ways, I'm forced to compromise my ideals. Because sometimes, an adverb is just the thing to effectively modify that slippery verb.

And that's not the only rule I tend to break. Sometimes I break the rule about repeating certain words too many times on a single page because sometimes, repitition can be kind of 'catchy'. Don't belive me? Ask every chorus of every rock and roll song ever.

Sometimes, a sentence with a passive verb phrase just seems to flow better. Because subject verbs the object, subject verbs the object, and subject verbs the object. Wouldn't it be nice, for a change, to have that object be verbed by the subject?

Also, sometimes you just need to tell it. I understand the importance of showing it, but do I really need to write a three page scene where my character enters his kitchen and makes a tuna sandwich and says "Mmmmmmmmmmmmm....."? Or can I just once in a while say, 'Biff sure did love him some tuna'?

And what about a convenient little information dump once in a while? I'm building a pretty complex universe over here. If I promise to be subtle, and organic, and sneaky, might I please have permission for my narrator to just go ahead and describe the injection procedure for biometric nanotrons that fuse to my character's nervous systems in order to form their neuropathode networks? I promise I could get r' done in less than one page of narrative exposition. And I promise to ease in and out really carefully. Because come on -- it's way better than having Biff say, "As you know Buffy, I've undergone the injection procedure where biometric nanotrons were fused to my nervous system in order to form my neuropathode network..."

Help me out here, blog buddies -- what rules do you like to break and why?

WIP Wednesday whine

This here is the working cover of my current manuscript. It's not for any actual publishing house or anything, but for temporary hard copies -- beta copies. I don't know about you other writers, but I'm the kind of guy that likes to print out a few bound books for friends and family. (And don't worry about the 'first publication rights' issue. I use Lulu, and select the 'hell-no-I-don't-want-this-to-be-available-to-the-public' option.)

So I'm looking towards the end of the project, and that right there is the good news.

The bad news is that after almost three weeks, I'm only 100 pages into the revision. And I'm loathing every page. I know that this is a pretty standard part of the editing process, but seriously -- every sentence feels like a disaster. Every character is a flop, and as usual, my plotline is so rigid that it steamrolls right over every other element that so-called 'good books' should have. I'm at the point where I can't stand reading my own writing, and I can't imagine that anyone else would ever want to. Much less pay money for it.

So yeah, I'm being all sensitive and artistic. I understand that. But still... it's oppressive as hell. I guess I'm just needing some kind of attitude adjustment. Anybody got any words of encouragement? What do you do when you feel this way?

Bryan Bliss -- try not to hate him.

I'm a couple days late in doing this, but I really want to congratulate my good friend Bryan Bliss. Sixteen days from first query ever, to signing with a hot agent. Anybody out there ever heard of shorter?

You're a rock star, buddy.

(If anybody is curious, click here to read more about his whirlwind agent search, and find out who his agent is.)

As for me, my agent offered to represent me within a week of beginning to query. So that would be pretty good, except that it was my tenth novel, and I had close to 400 rejections from all my previous works. A lesser man might be tempted to be bitter over Bryan's nearly instantaneous success, but not me. I'm really happy. Really really really flipping happy. And I really mean it. The emphatic insistance might make me seem insincere, but I'm really really not.

Really.

Anyway. Congratulations again, Bryan. And good luck on your first, big, agent-mandated revision. I'm pleased that we'll be miserable together.

WIP Wednesday -- we now turn our attention towards the revision process

After a bout of real world interruptions, during which time nothing of writerly importance was accomplished, today I spoke to my agent on the telephonic device. We discussed my recently completed first draft of Talonshale, and agreed that six weeks should give me ample time to come up with a version sturdy enough to withstand his weighty scrutiny.

Which seems like loads of time, right? I'll have leftover time coming out of my ears, right? (In the visible spectrum, a sufficient quantity of 'leftover time' can sometimes resemble soap bubbles). Writing a first draft in five weeks means you oughtter be able to edit the thing in a week tops. Am I right?

No -- Not so for me, my friends.

I'm a better word-vomiter than I am a word-polisher.

So we'll see how it goes.

In the meantime, looky here -- some 'family' and some 'whatnot' to go along with all the durned 'writin' talk.

(Click here to participate in WIP Wednesday)

Talonshale update

Wanna hear something weird?

For the first time in my novel-writing career, I'm actually looking forward to the revision process. I finished my book last night, and I like it, but I'm kind of excited to see what it'll look like with all the poop scraped away.

I never used to mind the poop.

Talonshale stats: 308 pages, 35 chapters, 79,000 words, 5 weeks of writing.

And today I slept in.

WIP Wednesday

Hey guys, sorry about not answering any comments on that last post. As you know I've been pouring myself into my manuscript and I haven't taken much time out for anything else. And when I say I 'haven't taken much time', I mean I really haven't done anything else.

Just been writing.

Literally. I've been missing meals, getting less than five hours of sleep a night, and ignoring each and every real world attempt to delay the finishing of my book. And let me tell you, that lasts one's like a swordfight -- block, parry, lunge, riposte... (and that's all the swordfighting words I know).

For the past month, I've been writing fifteen pages a day**, but since my last 'WIP Wednesday' update, I've gotten that up to twenty-five. No exaggeration. I really started to think I could finish that sucker today, but then my kids all had the day off from school and they've been tapping me on the shoulder and whining and saying things like, "Please Daddy, don't blog today, spend time with us instead."

Pshaw... kids just don't get it, do they?

So I'll finish it up tomorrow. Friday easily. And then I can go back to being a lazy slob who wastes his time playing Uno and Skip-bo and X-Box with his kids.

Or maybe I should start editing, I don't know.

(**I'm legally obligated to disclose that this figure does not include weekends. I'm in no way a writer on the weekends because weekends still belong to my family.)

Meet the Jedi-Ninja-Homeboy.

So check this out: you know how I just started my post with the word "so"? I looked back over some older post recently, and it appears that I've been starting about two out of three posts with the word "so".

So you know what that means, right?

(Go ahead and tell me because I don't know what that means.)

The real point to this post, is not to point out anything dorky or goofy that the blog author may or may not do. But to accomplish two important, unique, and very different objectives. Number one, to tell you something interesting and exciting about one of my bestest writing/blogging buddies -- and number two, to share this:

So now that I've gotten my number two out of the way (that's not a pun), let me get started on the main reason I've decided to blog on an otherwise restful and quiet Sunday evening -- Mr. Bryan Bliss.

How many of you writers remember sending out your very first batch of queries ever? You were probably told that querying is all about waiting, and that you were about to be subjected to loads and loads of heart-crushing rejection. And despite that, like me, I'm sure that you secretly wondered if you'd be the exception. If you'd have manuscript requests from every agent you submitted to. Be honest, did that little tiny hope burn secretly in your heart?

I ask because this is exactly what Bryan has been experiencing. He recently finished rewriting his first novel, then wrote his first query, then sent out his first batch, and within a couple of days, pretty much every query letter he sent out netted a full manuscript request. One was a partial request, but still, last I knew, he was up to seven requests SEVEN REQUESTS! -- In his first batch of queries ever! -- I've read his query, and it's really good, but come on? Is that unprecedented or what? I'll bet that if Oprah and Obama and Britney Spears all collaborated on a book about their individual experiences with hallucinogenic mushrooms, it could never garner as much interest and excitement as Bryan's been getting.

Bryan's also recently made the switch from Wordpress to Blogger (which gives him three-point-five additional cool points), so go on over to Jedi Ninja Homeboy and congratulate him. You may want to hang out and read and follow and everything, because he's also an absolute riot to be blog buddies with.

You'll enjoy networking with him, trust me.

W.I.P. Wednesday (it's this great new game I'm playing)

First off, to my writer buddies who don't already participate in WIP Wednesday -- you better jump on in. Cuz it's a really cool idea.

In fact, it's so cool, that if your eyeballs beheld any part of the previous two sentences, you might as well consider yourself tagged, cuz you are now officially playing.

I first noticed Matt Betts and Mercedes Yardley doing it, so I asked about it, and they directed me here, which is where a nice lady named Kate Karyus Quinn blogs, and hosts the thing and has this link about WIP Wednesday. Click that last one to learn the deal and get the cool graphic.

So... here's what's up with my 'work in progress':

I mentioned a couple posts back about how I've been writing fifteen to seventeen pages a day, and for the most part, I've been able to sustain that momentum. About four days a week anyway. Sometimes I can't avoid falling asleep -- sometimes for the better part of the day. And then I have to go and do actual work until midnight. (But at least it translates into actual cash money.)

Anyway. Strangely enough, I don't think I've ever mentioned this particular project on my blog before. It's called 'Talonshale', it's about the distant future of gaming, and what role-playing games would be like with almost unlimited technology. No, I haven't seen 'Gamer', but to tell you the truth, it offends me that they've made a movie out of my idea so quickly this time. Luckily mine's also a murder mystery -- a murder mystery for teenage dudes.

Who did it? Was it a hacker? Was it a computer glitch? Was it another player trying to make it look a glitch? There's only one way to find out, my friends -- wait another couple weeks and volunteer to be a beta reader.

Cuz yeah, my plan is for Talonshale to wind up around 65 - 70k words. Right now I'm at 50, and I'm thinking of setting the goal of finishing the first draft by next Friday. What do you think -- can I do it?

For those people who've been asking about Fiersom's Brood, I've got some bad news. Submissions are drawing to a close. Which I can only assume means no acquisitions editors are teenage dudes. This, in turn, means that my agent will be looking for my next project in the very near future, and my hope is that Talonshale blows him away.

...and then subsequently blows away the grown up editors, and grown up publishers, and ultimately -- teenage-dudes that still like to read.

Montague Class of 1989 -- 20 year reunion

So I understand that individual experiences might vary, but I’m gonna give you my take on our twenty year, high-school reunion:

For starters, there were some dudes I was hoping to see there that couldn’t make it. You dudes know who you dudes are. Anyway, knowing they weren’t going to be there, I was kind of disappointed. I told Cindy, “Yeah, you know, maybe we won’t hang around that long. Maybe we’ll pick up the kids early and go home and watch a movie or something.”

Then BAM! Seven hours passed in a heartbeat.

I don’t know about anybody else, but I think that our reunion could’ve lasted seventy hours and none of would have even felt remotely “caught up”. Something kind of weird happened at the Chamber Bar this last Saturday night, and I don’t think I was the only one who noticed. Because I had a bunch of conversations that went something like this:

“Isn’t this weird?”

“Yeah – weird.”

“It’s great though.”

“Yeah, great.”

“But weird.”

So later on, I really had to get that sucker figured out (‘later on’ being later that night while I was laying awake until 5 AM because of the thirty-two cups of coffee I drank at the reunion (but Cindy had fun)). Point is: I think I finally figured out what we were trying to express.

Bottom line: we’re pushing forty. Pushing it hard. Most of us have jobs and kids and mortgages, and for the past twenty years, these things have occupied our full attention. Meanwhile, the things we cared about for the first twenty years of our lives have almost completely faded. Like the people we shared those years with – the kids we grew up with. So on Saturday night, even though we were all strangers in a sense, from different towns and states and different walks of life, just for that one night, we kind of magically reconnected with that first half of our lives. Leprechauns and faeries sprinkled glittery sparkles all through the air, and we all de-aged twenty years. We became those same high-schoolers again, far removed from our jobs and kids and mortgages, just together in one place, enjoying one another’s company like a big, sweet mug of gut-warming hot chocolate.

Which is a goofy and gay way of saying it, but that’s kind of what it was like – hot chocolate. You couldn’t call it pickle juice or anything because I never really noticed anybody sitting shunned in the corner. So yeah… goofy or not, hopefully… it was hot chocolate all around.

And that’s my take.

Any other 89’s out there want to add anything?

Whiskey in the Jar

So I've been writing like mad. Fifteen to seventeen pages a day for the past two weeks. Today I was going to shoot for twenty-plus pages, because I took the day off work to attend my favorite event of the year, the Michigan Irish Music Festival, (To see me in action at the MIMF, click here, and here), but I have yet to sit down with my little writing computer.

I'm just too psyched about this weekend.

So after I found this song online, I made this video instead.

Enjoy.

Live from the can -- Beth

If you're one of my FB buddies, you've probably already seen this. If not, here's your chance to, er... not miss it.

On profile pictures.

So I've been sitting here ruminating all philosophical-like on the concept of profile pictures. Bear with me, cuz I don't have any real point to make, other than to say that profile pictures are a strange convention.

I was reading an article on CNN yesterday that described the phenomena of folks creating idealized personas online, and how some people are now paying artists hundreds of dollars to create portraits and avatars. And as disturbing as that is, I completely understand why these pople are going to all the trouble. Cuz I'm right down there with them.

On the internet, you have a lot more control over people's perceptions of you than you do in real life. You can project whatever image you want; you can even pretend the be the person you wish you were. I suppose its a little like dressing up in your Sunday clothes to go to church (or "your Friday clothes to go the bar" might be a better analogy). It's human nature, right? We all want to look our best so that others will approve of us, or at least have a favorable opinion of us when they 'behold our countenance' as they say in the Good Book.

Even so, the concept as a whole suddenly feels repugnant to me. It's all so vapid and pretentious, and I'm suddenly gripped by the urge to find the most unflattering picture of myself and use it for my profile pic on every social network I'm a part of (side note: I'm involved in like six at the moment -- supposedly that's a little on the low side).

So yeah, apparently I'm a lemming. And at the moment, I am in the throes of some kind irrational, philosophical rebellion. Which is weird because I'm not usually so anal.

Anyway, getting back to my nonexistant point -- in all honesty, my profile pic looks nothing me the real Ray of Friday, August 28th, at 9 AM. I wish the real Ray was that ruggedly handsome all the time, but the camera just happened to catch me at the right moment, from the right angle, on a 'good-hair-day'. I've gained fifteen pounds since them (mostly from quitting smoking), I've got a zit on forehead, and my hair is sticking up because I need a shower. Not only that, but my office is dark right now so the whole ghastly image is lit by the sickly blue glow from my computer moniter.

I should really make this my profile picture.

But I won't. Because I'm a lemming.