Ray Veen: word-slinger

The whole, long, slightly self-indulgent story.

2012-01-30T17:13:00.000-05:00

In the last fifteen years, I’ve finished twelve books, almost finished a few others, plotted another dozen, and jotted down ideas for a hundred more. Maybe not a hundred, but, you know… a lot. I just really like making up stories. And I can totally see myself doing it for the rest of my life. But it turns out there’s this one thing many writers do that I haven’t done yet – get books published.

It’s been on my mind a lot lately, and I’ve kind of forced myself to take a hard look at why it hasn’t happened yet. So bear with me while I reminisce, and ruminate, and most likely over-analyze, because this is probably going to be one of my longest blog posts ever.

First of all, you should know that it’s not for lack of trying.

The biggest reason I haven’t had a book published yet, I’d say, is due to sheer stupidity. No, not on the part of the publishing industry – I have only myself to blame. And I’m not being graciously self-deprecating or anything like that, I really have made some serious mistakes. Scratch that… I’ve made all the serious mistakes. Pretty much everything an aspiring writer can do wrong, I have tripped over, and fallen into, and wallowed around in, and raked over the top of myself.

Let’s start in 1998, when I finished writing my first book. I putzed around a while trying to figure out how to get one of them suckers published, and then, I naturally started querying. Within six months or so, I landed my first agent: Debbie Fine from Southeast Literary. Sound familiar? It might. If you’re agent research has ever led you to Writer Beware. Southeast Literary happens to be number 17 on their all-time, “20 worst agencies” list. (I should mention here, that shortly after signing with them, I ignored a full manuscript request from a legitimate, well-respected agent). Anyway. Long story short, I drank every drop of Ms. Fine’s Kool-Aid, paid all her ridiculous fees, and subsequently wasted an entire year waiting for her to send me some good news. Nothing ever came but placations and excuses filled with important-sounding, publishing lingo. And requests for more money.

Finally I wised up (a little), and I moved on.

For my next trick, I decided to turn my first book into a series by writing three more books. Because hey – doesn’t a complete four-book series sound infinitely more appealing than a paltry ‘one book with series potential’? No? Really? Well maybe it was just that one premise. People are reading books about young wizards these days, so I’ll just scrap all that other stuff and write a fantasy trilogy. But I won’t start querying until I’m happy with both the first and second book.

So yeah. Somewhere around 2005, I realized that I’d written six books, and really only had one project to market. And when that didn’t go well, I finally did something I should’ve done before I finished my first – I decided to learn how to write more gooder. A lot of writer’s resources had blossomed on the net by then, and I know this sounds hard to believe, but I never thought of looking into any of them, or reading any of the amazing ‘how to’ books out there, until I’d written six freaking novels. In other words, I wrote six books without ever bothering to learn how to write.

I won’t bore you with the details of what I learned, or how quickly, or where I learned it, but I swear to you – I pursued ‘better writing’ with laser-like intensity. You’ve probably heard it said that many writers don’t produce anything worth publishing until their third book? For me, because I’d just started to make my first real effort to improve my writing, that was my eighth or ninth book. Once I started doing all the hard and normal stuff most writers do to improve their craft, my writing finally began to improve. Obviously, I stopped writing books in a series (I still planned them on paper), and my seventh novel was a little better. But still not good enough. My eighth was even better, but still not good enough. That book, however, was the first one that began to catch the eye of a reputable agent here and there. I started getting requests for partials and fulls, sometimes several at a time, so I kind of knew that I was finally on the right track. Ultimately, number eight still wasn’t up to par, and they all passed. Including one guy who requested six months exclusivity – SIX MONTHS! Which I happily gave him. (Another huge mistake, perchance?) Anyway. Somewhere around that time, I went ahead and wrote my ninth book.

At this point, my memory's a little fuzzy. I’m not even sure what year we’re talking about – 2007 maybe – but for some reason, I never queried that book, and I never let anybody read it. My wife claims she’s read it, but I think she tells me lies to make me feel better. In retrospect, I think it was a fun story with a unique premise, and perhaps the most interesting narrative voice out of all my novels. I finished it, I edited it a bunch of times, but then I just kind of set it aside and wrote another book. No clue why. If I know me, though – and I think I do – I probably just got excited about the premise of my next book. My tenth book.

Here’s where things get interesting. Also, where I did the thing that turned out to be my most major setback to date. I began querying my tenth book in the Fall of 2008, and within a few hours of my first day of querying, I had a full manuscript request from a very reputable agent: Ethan Ellenberg. For the sake of brevity, I’ll just tell you that I ended up signing with him – after only sending out a grand total of five queries. I thought I was “in”. I was sure I was “in”. I’d paid way more than my fare share of dues and there was nowhere to go but on to absolute, best-selling, blockbuster success. Because getting an agent is the hard part, right? They just send it on to some of their editor buddies, and ‘cha-ching’ – book deal!

Of course, if it’d all worked out that way, I wouldn’t be writing this now.

I’m guessing that if you’re still reading at this point, then you’re probably going to be very curious as to what went wrong in our three year relationship. Unfortunately, I can’t give you a concrete answer to that. But you know how all the advice, in all the forums and all the articles, says that you should make sure you and your agent are a “good fit”? In retrospect, Mr. Ellenberg and I were not. I think I even sensed that during our initial phone conversation, but I swept it under the rug. Because after ten books… I finally had a good agent, baby!

I like to think that I’m a big boy. I’m pretty thick-skinned and independent – I really don’t need anybody to hold my hand. So before I type this next thing, you should know that I rarely approached Ethan with concerns or questions. But in three years of ‘working together’, we had only three phone conversations, and maybe twenty emails. He seemed pretty excited about old number ten, but after one round of submissions, he suggested we turn our attention to my next project. So I wrote another book.

And he passed on it.

Honestly, that threw me a little. I didn’t know agents “passed” on books by writer’s they’d signed. But whatever. I started yet another book, and meanwhile, pitched him the most promising of my older books. He passed on that too. And when I did finish my twelfth book, guess what?

He passed.

On the surface, that might seem weird or callous, but one thing I haven’t mentioned yet is that all of my books are very different from one another. I don’t just get one kind of idea for one kind of genre, I get crazy-stupid, butt-loads of ideas from every obscure corner of the cosmos: adult, young-adult, middle-grade, science fiction, horror, high fantasy, mythic fantasy, contemporary fantasy – the only thing my books have in common is that they depart from reality in a major way. So Mr. Ellenberg got excited about (and wanted to represent) a first-person urban fantasy with an irreverent narrative voice. The next thing I sent him was a serious-toned murder mystery set in the distant future. And after that, a book about freaking faeries. Should I have, instead, gone with the haunting tragedy based on Scottish folklore? I don’t know. But I don’t think my books were all that bad, and I don’t think he was a bad agent. I think he simply wasn’t interested in representing the kinds of things I was trying to send him.

So like I said – “bad fit”. And unfortunately, it took almost three years to admit it. That whole time, I knew things weren’t going well, but I figured that as long as I already had an agent, one who sold a lot of books for a lot of writers, it was still my closest and best shot at getting one of my books published. And finally, in the Summer of 2011, I realized I was deluding myself. Because really, why would anybody take time away from clients who earn them money to promote books they’re clearly not excited about? And how many more books was I going to have to write before I came back around to something that excited him again?

So I wrote him a friendly, ‘I don’t think this is working’ letter, and that’s where I’m at now. Unagented, unpublished, with twelve books on the shelf, and somewhere near the middle of one of the longest ‘road to publication’ stories ever. Notice I’m still assuming there’s a “pub” at the end of this road. And even if there’s not, I’m probably going to keep on writing. Even if the only form my stories ever take are Lulu beta copies that I circulate among my friends and family and co-workers. I just like doing it. Like I said in the beginning – I LOVE making up stories.

In the meantime, I don’t mind taking a few steps backwards. It’s kind of fun learning to query all over again, and seeing which agents I remember and what houses they’re at now – they’re kind of like old friends who were never really my friends but I haven’t stalked in a long time so now it’s interesting to see how they’re doing and who they’re representing and what their houses look like on Google Earth.

Let’s just hope that there aren’t too many more mistakes an aspiring writer can make, because if there are, then I’m probably destined to make them. In fact, if you can think of one that doesn’t appear in my little ‘comedy-of-errors’ here, then post it in the comments. Maybe I’ll see ‘em coming for a change.

And hey… thanks a heck of a bunch for taking the time to read all this. My hope is that maybe one little writer somewhere will see this blog post, and perhaps, just maybe, learn enough to avoid one or two of the idiotic blunders I’ve made in my ‘not-quite’ writing career.

Waiting to sleep

2011-09-22T13:04:00.000-04:00

No, it's not part two of my conference experience. It's not even about writing. Unless 'songwriting' counts for something. Sorry for leaving you all hanging on that, and for neglecting my blog and whatnot, but this is kind of more important. This is a song I wrote for Cindy, recorded on my phone, and then made a video. Watch and enjoy. (And cut me some slack for being a bad writer/blogger guy).

BTW, this is my first post from my Android. Now that Blogger's on my phone maybe I'll update more often. Or not.

The SCBWI conference experience, part one: 'Who I met'

2011-08-11T22:47:00.005-04:00

Honestly, at this point, I could sit here typing for hours trying to capture every aspect of the whole conference experience -- maybe write the longest post in the history of my blog. But don't get bored and click away, friendly friends, because I would never do that to you. I like you. Actually I'm kind of in a sweet spot right now, still buzzing from all the wisdom and information and the thrill of the whole thing, yet I'm not quite done mulling everything over. The way it plays out is that everything is still fresh in my memory, but I haven't yet over-analyzed it, so I can blog about the high-lights without boring you with pontifications over the deeper meanings and far-reaching consequences of my various encounters throughout the weekend.

And to abbreviate it even further, I've decided to break it up into two blog posts: 'Who I met', and 'What I Learned'. Come back Monday-ish, because I've got a feeling that second one will have more value to those of you who were unfortunate enough to have missed it.

So here it is: 'Who I met at SCBWI 40th Anniversary Summer Conference'

First off, to save money, I shared a room with three other dudes. Little did I know that they would turn out to be the 'Three Horsemen of the Apocolypse'. (My name for them, by the way.) They were messy. They were subversive. They were 'too-cool-for-school'. They actually had an important message to share with the rest of the conference-goers, and the YA/MG publishing industry at large. They were the crew of 'Boys Don't Read'. And if you want a good laugh, not to mention a reason to scratch your chin and say, "Hmmm...", I highly suggest you visit their site. They are becoming a phenomenon. In no specific order, they are:

Jeff Geiger: (http://www.jcgeiger.com/) Actor, playwright, computer guy, and MG author. Dude had loads of personality and an infectious grin, and best of all, next time he's in Michigan, we're getting together to hit some of the local brew places. I stole this picture from his blog so you can kind of get an idea of what kind he's like. Notice the shirt. (Henry Winkler was there because he's co-written a series of children's books: "Hank Zipzer" -- click here for a good Winkler story)
Steve Brezenoff: (http://stevebrezenoff.blogspot.com/) Author of 'Brooklyn Burning' and 'Absolute Value of -1'. Steve is very cool. I'd even call him 'mysterious'. He watches the world from under a ballcap, with the kind of eyes that you can just tell are absorbing way more than they're saying. I hung out with him a bit less than the other two, but still... Brezenoff impressed the hell out of me.
Bryan Bliss: (http://bryanbliss.blogspot.com/) Most of you who follow my blog know Bryan, but unfortunately for you -- most of you haven't had the good fortune of meeting him in person. Well I have, and I'd just like to say, "Ha-ha, suckers!" Bryan has been one of my best writing buddies for a few years now, and in fact, he's the one who invited me to stay in the room with, well... him and the other two horsemen of the apocolypse. But I digress. Surely those of you who know Bryan are wondering what he's like in person, and here I am rambling on and on about things other than what Bryan is like in person and yet you're still reading because you want to know what Bryan is like in person. Here it is then -- Bryan Bliss is a freaking rock star. The man has insane people skills: charming, witty, intelligent, friendly -- the whole package. At one point, I looked across the party and saw him shmoozing one of the biggest publisher/editor ladies at the whole conference. And as straight-laced as the lady seemed, Bryan had her doubled over with laughter. (Bryan says he doesn't remember her being 'doubled over', but as a sworn witness, I will attest that she was bent slightly forward, hand over mouth, vigorously engaged in 'belly laugh' type activity.) Anyway, it's starting to look like I could write a blog post just about Bryan alone, so I'll move on. First though, I want to say that I'm very grateful to Bryan for letting me hang with him when he was chatting up the more experienced writing folks. I wouldn't have made half the connections I did if it hadn't been for his cheerful introductions and warm compliments on my behalf. Again, notice Bryan's shirt in the picture.

So. The people I met through Bryan. It's kind of a nice segue into one of the more enlightening things I realized while at the conference. Turns out, there were really two kinds of people there. Not to generalize, because I'm sure there were plenty of overlaps and whatnot, but the people I met sort of fell into two categories, the 'veterans' and the 'up-and-comers'. The veterans were people that have had a few books published, maybe many, or maybe just one soon to be released. These guys seemed to be there more to network, socialize, visit their friends, meet their agent or editor for lunch or dinner. They didn't do much of conference-ey type stuff, and in fact, some of them hadn't even registered for the conference. I visited with a number of them -- wouldn't say I "made friends" -- but just being around them and over-hearing their offhand discussions about their books, and their agents, and the biz in general -- it was utterly invaluable.

The "up-and-comers"; these were my people. People like me. Folks that were there to learn, break in, meet an agent in line at Starbucks and successfully pitch their book to them. These guys (mostly they were ladies) went to all the sessions and keynotes and whatnot, and took notes, and traded business cards. Turns out I was more comfortable with them, maybe because we had more in common, but when I was them, I felt like this spirit of comraderie, belonging, fraternity. Basically, let's just say I made some good friends with many people I'd love to see again at future conferences.

Moving on (hopefully towards some kind of end), here are some shout-outs to the folks I met at SCBWI:

Caz Williams: A very hip and friendly lady from Australia who greeted me in the elevator, and from then on, ended up sitting with me for most of the rest of the keynotes and 'big room' stuff. Caz also made me dance. (http://cazwilliams.blogspot.com/)
Angela Driver: Another hip and freindly lady from Australia. I had a lot of fun visiting with Angela, and in fact, she was the only person I swapped stories with in any detail -- 'stories' as in 'our books'. Angela bought me coffee. A really really big coffee. (http://angeladriver.com/)
Jody Lamb: A fellow Michigan writer. Jody might have been a little quiet, but I felt like this sibling-ey connection with her right off the bat. I would have liked to visit with her more, but oh well... maybe at a regional conference? (http://www.jodylamb.com/)
Sarah Perry: Author of 'Pajama Girl'. Another Michigan writer. Sarah is also a librarian, and therefore worthy of our respect and admiration. I had several great conversations with Sarah, about writing and books and work-shop-type stuff, but more importantly, she was the one who helped me find the courage to brave my way back through LAX. (http://writertherestless.blogspot.com/)
Suzanne Young: Author of 'The Naughty List', and 'A Need so Beautiful'. Suzanne struck me as very warm and very kind, and she gave me some terrific prospects for when I begin querying my next book. Agents with whom, apparently, she is on a first name basis. Did I mention there were a bunch of them? (http://suzanne-young.blogspot.com/)
Tracy Wymer: Someone I didn't expect to see. We have a few blog friends in common, but never really followed each other, and then he walks up and introduces himself at the conference. He struck me as this smart, sincere, friendly guy, and although I only bumped into him a few times, I enjoyed meeting him a lot. (http://www.tracyedwardwymer.com/)
Bethany Griffin: Author of 'Handcuffs' and the soon to be released, 'Masque of the Red Death'. This lady wore pigtails and leaned against the firepit, and mostly, I just listened to her talk, because she was so freaking funny. And interesting... very, very interesting. (http://www.bethanygriffin.com/)
Mary Kole: Yes, Mary Kole, of the 'Kidlit' blog fame. In case you don't know, Mary is an agent with Andrea Brown Literary Agency and a big deal in the children's literature scene. I didn't pitch to her or anything like that, but I can honestly say I got a huge kick out of hanging out with her.
And finally, "Kelly". Author of a bunch of books I'd check out if I knew who she was. I never got her last name, and I wish I had, because in one particularly candid and alarming conversation, she peeled back the veneer of children's book publishing, and laid bare all the deceptions, consipiracies, and pitfalls an ignorant writer can fall into. And hello? I happen to be an ignorant writer. If anybody knows who I'm talking about, and what her last name is, let me know. I'd like to send her a thank-you email.

I need to end this post. I really do. So yeah... welcome to the end of the post.

More on SCBWI in a few days.

"A Scary Good Book"

2011-08-08T17:40:00.003-04:00

First of all, I apologize if you clicked here expecting a report of the SCBWI conference. This is not that post. Number one, I'm whupped (I flew all night, got home mid-day today, took a short nap, and now I'm at work), and number two -- the whole experience was so indescbribable, I'm going to need to process it for a few days before I can actually talk about it. Right now, the only coherent thing I have to say about it is... "Wow".

I'm actually blogging today to congratulate my friend Anita Laydon-Miller on the launch of her new, kid's ebook, A SCARY GOOD BOOK. Also to help spread the word. Which, if you don't see the subtle hint, means you should click one or both of these links. You won't be sorry.

Twelve-year-old Hannah Stone tells everyone she’s “okay,” but that’s a total lie. Two years ago her dad was killed by a hit-and-run driver. The detective in charge of the case never found the driver, but he somehow managed to get Hannah’s mom to fall in love with him. The jerk. And speaking of love, Hannah’s developed a major crush on Ollie Ortega—he’s her best friend and the only one she can talk to—a crush on Ollie is so not a good idea.

Also not a good idea? Searching for a missing person with no help from the police. But that’s exactly what Hannah does when she finds messages in library books—underlined words that point her in the direction of someone who needs her.

And, suddenly, Hannah’s even further from okay. She breaks into a library, gets caught in a kidnapper’s web, and is stalked by her dad’s killer, all in an effort to save a life…but can she save herself, too?

Does that not sound cool? Of course it does. (I know you're not supposed to answer yourself when you ask a rhetorical question, but really, this book sounds so awesome, I had to.)

So go check it out. And then in a day or two, maybe three, come back and hear about SCBWI.

Yeah, I'm going to the conference. You going to the conference?

2011-08-02T09:18:00.001-04:00

Holy crap, it's almost here! In two days I leave for Los Angeles to attend the 40th anniversary 'Society for Children's Book Writers and Illustrators' conference. And this is a big one, y'all. It's so big, they had to put the word "international" before the title, so... more than one nation -- that's pretty big. For anybody who doesn't know, writing conferences are a magical place where powerful wizards emerge into the mundane realms to share the secrets of the arcane arts with willing mortals, or so I'm told. I don't know because I've never been to one before. Which is kind of what this blog post is all about.

Any of you been to a conference or two? Any stories or advice or pearls of wisdom you'd like to share with a runny-nosed newbie?

Shout out to a special family

2011-07-29T11:10:00.000-04:00

Meet Amy and Eric. They're about to meet their son, Grayson (if they haven't already). She's this cool nurse I work with in surgery, and right about now, she's having one of the biggest moments of her life. Her and her husband are in China as we speak, preparing to bring home this special little guy that they've been waiting years for. It's particularly poignant because, ten years ago, they lost their natural son, Ryan.

So do me a favor: click on over to her new blog and congratulate her. Personally I think international adoption is one of the more beautiful things in our world, and if you agree with me, go, read her story, leave her a comment letting her know that you support her and that you're excited for her. I'm sure it'll make an already amazing week even more memorable for her.

Tell her Ray sent you.

http://ourjourneytograyson.blogspot.com/

Elfhame cover samples

2011-07-25T12:07:00.004-04:00

Before I get into this, I've got to make one thing clear: this book is going to be self-published -- but purely as an art project -- not because I've decided to give up on the traditional route to publication: I still have me plenty of traditional irons in the traditional fire. Elfhame just happens to be my favorite out of all my old, pre-agent books. I've always kind of fantasized about what it would look if it were illustrated, and what my ideas would look like through an artist's eyes, and that is what has been happening slowly over the last year. Nancy has done some amazing work, and someday hopefully soon, it'll be available for friends and family and anyone who happens to randomly click on it. Because no, I don't intend to put any effort into marketing it. I just want the dang thing to exist.

So here they are: samples of the potential covers for Elfhame. Hopefully you can click the picture to make it larger, because I'm real curious to know which elements and fonts and colors and whatnot are the most appealing. We already have a mock-up of our favorite parts all in one cover -- it's the leading contender for the final cover -- but I'm going to kind of hold that one back for now. Wouldn't want to influence anyone's opinion. Just want to know if the things we like are the things everybody else is going to like.

Carrie Harris: Bad Taste in Boys -- the book launch

2011-07-23T20:53:00.010-04:00

Today, Miss Cindy and I drove five hours to a little book shop in Ann Arbor, Michigan for a very special reason -- to attend the book launch of Bad Taste in Boys by Carrie Harris. Think I'll just let you go ahead and click the link to read a description of the book, because she's had all kind of awesome reviews so far, and almost every single one of them summarizes the thing, and therefore it would be redundant for me to do so as well, in addition to all the others (see what I did there? It's a reduncancy joke).

So. I've known Carrie from around the blogs for a few years now, and I've always thought her as wickedly smart and wickedly funny, and maybe only a tiny bit mentally disturbed. (Don't believe me? Click the link to her blog). So of course I wondered what it would be like to meet her in real person. And do you want to know what? I was not dissappointed in the least. When she took the stage to talk about her book, and read excerpts and whatnot, she came across as this zany, smiley, really-magnetic, likeable person. She had the whole room laughing continuously, she was laughing right along with us -- and not only was she hysterical, she was also articulate, and graceful, and knowledgeable. I do hope she ends up with a lot of speaking engangements, because the lady really knows how to warm up a room.

All in all, it was a completely fun, and in a lot of ways, enlightening, experience for me. There's so much I still don't know about the publishing industry, but listening to Carrie answer questions about it was a real eye-opener. For example: did you know that most authors don't go on book tours anymore? Seriously. Apparently there's this thing called the 'internet', and folks can network and connect and share information on books and things right from the comfort of their own homes. I know because Carrie told me.

So now i'm looking forward to reading Bad Taste in Boys. Or re-reading it, actually, because I had an opportunity to read the bulk of it a few years back. I'm really anxious to see what it looks like now, after all the professional editing and the whole, arduous publication process. I have no doubt that it shall be enormously educational as well -- and I will certainly come away from the experience as a more enlightened reader and writer, and no doubt, with a re-instilled, irrational fear of the zombie apacolypse.

In short, I fully expect Bad Taste in Boys to change my life.

One last thing. One of the best parts of the book launch today, besides Carrie herself, was meeting another Michigan writer/blogger in person -- Vivi Bickell from 'Cursing in Heels'. Also a wickedly smart and wickedly funny lady. And not only that, but Vivi impresses the crap out of me with her absolute tenacity and passion to keep on writing. She actually works on her stories in ten minute spurts, whenever she gets the chance to set her little baby girl on the floor next to her. It's dedication like that'll her get her published one of these days too, and I, without a doubt, will be there for her book launch party too.

So there you have it. Besides many hundreds of miles of driving, that was my day. How was yours?

PS: Super good luck to you, Carrie, may BTIB rock the YA world, and sell many bajillion copies.

PSS: Vicki -- It was awesome meeting you. Here's hoping that your sweet little girl finally learns to enjoy the bliss of slumber, thereby giving mommy many extra hours in the day to make her impact on the YA world as well, in addition to Carrie. Also. (I should've got a picture of me and you together. Bliss would be so jealous.)

'Bad Taste in Boys' author, Carrie Harris, and some dude in plaid.

Wanna see something?

2011-07-22T13:16:00.002-04:00

My 'puffy' shirt.

It was such a hit on Facebook, I thought I'd share it here. I got this Jacobite shirt to go with my kilt. I plan on wearing it the ren faire, and maybe the Irish Music Festival. All I need accessory-wise is a rose to clench between my teeth.

Pretty book covers forthcoming

2011-07-18T19:54:00.004-04:00

I want to post pictures, but I can't. Not yet. Mainly because they don't quite exist at this point in time -- but they soon shall!

Met with my artist buddy, Nancy Zack, at the book store today, to discuss the cover of our 'art-project' book, ELFHAME. We looked at a crap-ton of covers, and were very inspired, and had some amazing ideas, and I'll bet that even as I'm typing, she's stylus-ing away on her fancy-shmancy, computerized art-pad. She sent me a few mock-ups last week -- and they were awesome! -- and now that she's working on juggling the different elements we saw today, I'm sure it's only getting awesome-ier! (I'm usually very sparing with excalmation points, so, you should be able to tell that I'm pretty excited about this)

I'm sure we'll end up with four or five variations, and with her permission, I'll probably post them and see what y'all think of the different parts. Because that would also be awesome.

LIve from the can -- "You were meant for me"

2011-07-17T14:48:00.004-04:00

I lub this song.
(that's my daughter singing)

I have other videos from the can.

Catch up with Ray

2011-07-14T13:16:00.010-04:00

Getting ready for SCBWI in LA, looking forward to meeting new people, and meeting old people for the first time face-to-face (yeah, I'm talking about you, Bryan Bliss)

Part of getting ready was ordering new business cards. Here they is: (I was going for simple and bold and cheap, what do you think?)

Thinking about revamping the old blog. Ain't tinkered with it in a few years, and since it's going to be on the business card which I will be passing out to important new folks, might be time to 'professional' it up.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Writing-wise, my status is thus

My local writer's group (the Vellum) is critting the latest version of Talonshale right now.

I've started the final editing for Elfhame, the "art project" that my artist friend and I are going to self-publish. She's been working on the cover recently and it looks AMAZING and I can't wait to share it.

And as soon as that is done, I can go back and finish the first draft of Chronon -- my current WIP which is about 50% done (170-ish pages)

That's it for me for now. What's everybody else been up to this summer?

20 years ago today (er, two days ago)

2011-06-23T12:02:00.005-04:00

Can't believe I missed this, June 21st has always been a kind of a special day to me. Besides being the day I left for basic training, it was also my Army 'ETS' date: 'end of time in service'. What I'm saying is, two days ago, I missed the 20 year anniversary of my getting out of the active Army. I stayed in the National Guard for five more years -- 'one-weekend-a-month' kind of thing -- but June 21st, 1991 was the day I first came home. After Georgia, and Texas, and Saudi Arabia, and Iraq, and what seemed like an eternity of missing my mommy (and subsequently learning to drink).

In honor of that, I've uploaded a few more ancient pictures to my Army web album. Take a look. And then, next time you see me, you can buy me a celebratory beverage. Alcoholic, preferably, because drinking is the one skill I've maintained all these years.

For the Daughters

2011-05-24T01:02:00.006-04:00

It's been over five months since my last blog post. That may sound pathetic and lame, but if you look at it another way, I just achieved a new milestone -- "longest I've gone without blogging". And I've been blogging since 2005, so, you should be really really impressed.

The above line has been edited to reflect reality -- as opposed to my initial thoughtless misperception. If you're truly interested, here is my first blog entry ever.

I'm posting tonight to do something I've almost never done before -- share a bit of my incredibly personal, extremely private poetry. It's unrefined, unedited, basically raw as hell, but I want people to read this one. And by people, I mean fathers. Specifically, 'fathers who have precious little daughters'.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

For the Daughters

She is eight years old and coloring.
A princess.
Her little round face is filled with concentration.
Crayons are scattered, some broken, some peeled.
She believes she could be that princess one day.
Loved by all, no cares, living happily ever after.

"Do you think her dress should be pink or purple?"

Yesterday she fit in my arms and sobbed.
Because of a boo-boo. Her tears soaked my shoulder.
Tomorrow she will cry again. Because of some mean boys at school.
In ten years she will fall in love with some of those same boys.
They will break her heart.
But not before some of them use her.

"This is my favorite green because it's like the Spring-time."

In twenty years, she will pour every drop of herself into her own children.
Her husband will sneak away to think about other women.
He will stop wanting her.

"I don't have gold so her crown's going to be yellow. Is that okay?"

In forty years, she will be alone again.
And wonder what happened.

"I'm gonna color her castle next."

In eighty years, she will lie in a bed in an institution and soil herself.
The person cleaning her up will loathe her.
He will not stop to consider that once, a long time ago...

... there was a man who watched her color and adored her utterly.

Elfhame artwork

2010-12-12T11:30:00.004-05:00

This here, like I promised last week, is a sampling of the artwork by the gifted and imaginative Nancy Zack, which will appear in our self-published book, 'Elfhame'. To be clear, I'm still technically working with my agent and still planning on pursuing traditional publication with other projects. Elfhame just happens to be an older novel that Mr. Agent is not interested in representing, so I made the decision to self-publish it. Actually, I have many older stories that he's not interested in representing, but Elfhame is special. The story is one of my absolute favorites, and I've always dreamed about seeing some of the imagery from the book come to life. And now, with Nancy's help, that's exactly what's happening.

I plan on buying a few copies for friends and family, it'll be available online for anybody else who might be interested -- but -- I'm not going to spend any money printing hundreds of copies I'll have to market myself, and I won't spend any time promoting it or trying to get it into bookstores...

I simply want this book to exist.

Purely for the artistry of it.

You feel me?

Just call me 'Loser McLosey'

2010-12-06T00:19:00.003-05:00

Yeah, I could make excuses. And they'd be really good ones, too. Upon hearing them you'd feel a surge of sympathy for me and shake your head and ask yourself in a quiet and sad voice, "Really, how could a person be expected to do all that writing in the midst of X, Y and Z? Frankly I'm amazed that he made it to 27,000 -- it's nothing short of heroic."

Gosh guys, that's nice of you say, but 'heroic'? That's just too much.

-------------------------

In real writing news: I'm still looking forward. Still got my eyes on the prize and all that. With Nano 2010 now a part of history, I'm setting Oneironaut aside once again, and going back to editing Talonshale. And I shall not stop until it is squeaky clean and glittering like a pubescent vampire in the sunshine.

Also, I've made the decision to self-publish one of my older projects. Not because I've embraced the notion that self-publishing is the road to fame and riches, but purely for the artistry of it. The book is pretty much my favorite out of all my old stories, and it is one that my agent has "released the rights" to, so I've partnered with a very talented lady who's going to illustrate it for me. She's done some amazing work so far, and I'd love to share it with you blog types, but first I should ask her permission.

In other news, don't actually call me 'Loser McLosey'. It hurts.

What October hath wrought:

2010-11-02T00:19:00.007-04:00

So hey, you ever read back through your old blog posts and think to yourself, "I used to be a much more better blogger than I am now?" (forgive me for rambling or making mistakes -- I'm having a couple drinks) I was looking for something in an old blog post (I kind of forgot what it was now) and I started reading my old stuff and I found myself actually laughing. Out loud. At my own blog posts. I used to be a helluva blogger. funny too. Now i'm just a pathetic social networker who checks Facebook on my phone every hour on the hour -- just like the other six-hundred bajillion people on planet Earth.

Guess I'm feeling kind of 'out-of-body' today. And it's not just the gin and Guinness and LeBatts. I also quit smoking for the 412th time. everybody's gotta get their mind-altering chemicals somehow, right? On the plus side, I wrote more than the daily Nano quota today (but less than my own psychotic, self-imposed quota), work didn't kick my ass, and, wonder-of-all-wonders, my very good blogging buddy, KM Walton got herself a freaking mother of a publishing offer today. Ever hear of Simon and Shuster? That's who's going to be publishing Kate's book. Super huge helluva congratulations to you, Kate. Despite my own recent, 'less-than-chipper', writing experiences, I'm super-psyched for you. I can only imagine the mind-blowing over-joyedness you must be feeling now. Enjoy it, my friend, because there will only be one day in your life when you get the fantastic news that you are about to become a published author.

ROCK ON KM!

I promise to pay full price for your book when it gets published. Hardcover. And I shall be pleased to know that much of said cash shall go into your lucky-ass pocket.

What else? Oh. Halloween.

As you can see, we had one helluva good time. I love me some family holidays. And the title of my blog is, after all, 'Writing and Family and whatnot'.

One more thing: I would be super-honored if you would all click the following link. You know I'm a surgical technologist by trade, right? Ever wonder what happens behing those mysterious 'surgical-attire-required-beyond-this-point' doors? This video answers that question and so much more. (See me in drag, dude -- f'real)

Ray actually has a small amount of acting ability.

WIP Wednesday -- ain't done it in a while

2010-10-27T23:00:00.004-04:00

Here's where things stand for me, writing-wise:

1. Finished re-editing an older book, 'Elfhame' -- my personal favorite out of all my stories.

2. Putting the finishing touches on the phat outline for my next book, which I'm now calling 'Chronon'.

3. Sent a description of both projects to my agent almost a month ago, and haven't heard back.

4. Have decided to write my next book as a participant in NaNoWriMo ('National Novel Writing Month', in case you ain't never heard of it). This is my profile. If you're participating, add me as a writing buddy.

I've been hanging around with the local Wrimos since 2006, but I haven't been able to be a 'real' competitor for the last two years. As luck would have it, both Novembers were spent mired in horrific revisions. My area's a bit light on writerly folks, so I really enjoyed the networking aspect of NaNo: meeting other writers, talking shop and whatnot, but I felt bad about ending the month with no real word count. Despite writing twelve full books, I've been a NaNoWriMo 'loser' four years in a row. And I do so hate to feel 'loser'-ey. Lucky for me, this November, my writing schedule and NaNo coincide -- I'll be working on the first draft of Chronon. Serendipitous, no?

I should mention that my usual writing pace for a first draft is about 4000 words a day; NaNo's 50k should be a paltry twelve-and-a-half days for me. I don't expect my writing to suffer from NaNo's self-proclaimed "kamikazee, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing." I'm actually hoping that having local writer buds to encourage me will make make my writing better. And even if I do end up with yet another pile of excrement, at the end of the month, I expect I'll have had a bit of fun.

And like I mentioned in my last post -- I really only seem to be writing for fun these days.

What September has wrought:

2010-09-23T11:01:00.004-04:00

Got some bad news from my agent last Friday -- 'Talonshale' will not be going into submissions. Which is discouraging. But the fact remains that I really like writing, so that's what I'm gonna keep on doing, and here's where I'm going (the working title is 'Sulwig'):

Elevator pitch:

Nathaniel is a hundred-million dollar research project, but he has no clue. He believes he is just an average sixteen-year-old, with below-average grades, until he finds himself trapped between warring high-tech weapons researchers. When he acquires a cell-phone that can make objects vanish and re-appear with a simple text, Nathaniel finally begins to question who he is, and what he's capable of.

As of today, it's fully plotted and outlined, and I have the first few pages down to capture the voice and style and whatnot. And I'm pretty excited about it. So let us not dwell on the negative. Instead, let me share a bit of last weekend's 'therapy' -- the 2010 Michigan Irish Music Festival. Me and a kilt, and my girly-girls and some mind-blowing Irish music (and some beers).

In honor of the Irish Music festival, Cindy and I recorded this video of us playing our fairly new instruments that we've just begun to learn this summer (in other words, go easy on us). I have other versions of these tunes in which we make fewer mistakes, but I find it extremely cute when Cindy messes up and turns those sheepish eyes to mine -- makes my heart all sunny and warm.

It's kind of like an awards show, only no live music

2010-08-05T22:00:00.005-04:00

First of all, huge congratulations to my buddy KM Walton for landing herself a big-time literary agent. You faithfully walked the walk, did all the things you were supposed to and more, refusing to give up (almost) every step of the way, and now you're officially 'in the game'. Because that's really what being agented is all about. Until you sign with someone, being published seems like a perpetually unobtainable dream. Then it all changes. Once you're agented, it's almost like that contract could come at any time -- your ultimate fantasy could come true at any moment. Of course, most of us still wind up doing many revisions and writing several more books and waiting several more years (like me), but it's still a huge relief to know that you're a real, live 'player'. Sometimes people do get published right out of the gate, though, and Kate, I hope that's you.

While I'm congratulating people, I should also mention Mercedes Yardley. About a week ago, she signed with Jason Yarn from Paradigm. I haven't known her for quite as long as I've known Kate, but I'm still very excited, and feel very gratified for her. I read her book last year, and in all honesty, it was hands down the most haunting, resonant book I've read in the last couple years (published or no). You rock, Mercedes -- and soon the whole world shall see how hard.

As for me, I'm still waiting to hear how my agent likes Talonshale version seven. When he responds, I'm sure I'll be diving deep into revision-mode once more, but in the mean time, I'm taking a break from writing and just enjoying the summer with my family.

So where are the rest of you at? Been a while since I've compared notes with some of you. Anyone else land an agent while I wasn't looking?

Hollywood wins again.

2010-07-19T21:23:00.003-04:00

Pre-emptive apology: this post is a bit whiny. It could even be construed as arrogant. I'm sorry if it comes off that way -- mainly I'm just frustrated with Hollywood and their inconsiderate ways. Why must they persist in coming out with so many movies that are similar to my own, unpublished stories?

I know. It's happened to all us would-be writers. Still stings, though.

So one of my very first story ideas ever, and we're talking many years ago, was about this shapeshifting, liquid metal I called 'Omnipotanium'. Not long after writing a short story with that title, the movie Terminator II came out, and they had the super cool, shapeshifting metal robot guy.

A few years later I was writing a story where a man with an incredibly vibrant, rewarding life wakes up and finds he's actually lived his whole life in a pod on a space-ship, and that the life he'd thought he'd lived was a fantasy pumped into his mind. Remind you of anything? That's right. "The Matrix." That movie actually came out before I was finished, so I quit on page seventy-something. The rest of my story was different enough; there's this benevolent, alien race transporting the remnants of the humanity to a new, unspoiled planet, the trip is multi-generational, so the fantasies are just their way of giving the sleepers some semblence of a quality-of-life.

Here's my point. If I'd finished that story, and somehow gotten it published, the world would have always assumed I'd ripped-off of The Matrix. At least in part.

But wait, there's more:

circa 1992. I wrote a 700 page behemeth about the challenges of being a young sorceror's apprentice. And we all know what young sorceror hit the scene a few years later.
My tenth book, Fiersom's Brood was about a group of teenagers that develop mental powers, and I tried my hardest to make all of their powers original and unique, and then the TV series 'Heroes' hit the air. And yeah, they must've had access to my notebooks because pretty much all of my 'originality' found its way into the show.
And, as many of you know, I've been trying to write a 'future-of-gaming' book for more than three years now. I'm up to seven different versions of it, and one of the early ones was suspiciously similar to 'Gamer' with Gerard Butler.

So here is my latest discouragement: I started a book last summer that I've been working on off and on (it's up to about 170 pages) that I'm tentatively calling 'Oneironaut'. I've blogged a bit about this one. It's about a team of dream researchers that pair up two teenage boys who are gifted, 'lucid dreamers'. The idea is that they're supposed to link up in other people's dreams as a cutting edge form of dream therapy. Then there's some other stuff about artifacts that can be carried from the dream world into the waking world, but nobody's going to remember that bit. Not now that 'Inception' is making such a big splash. For those of you who don't care to click the link, you could probably guess what the basic concept is about -- people with the ability to connect in other people's dreams.

So now I'm bummed. And you know? I think I just need to break into publishing ASAP -- before I run out of marketable ideas.

2010-06-17T21:43:00.005-04:00

In my last post, I announced the completion of the first draft of Talonshale version seven. And today I finished the second draft. So yeah, that's why I'm updating again. Soon it shall be ready for those of you who were so brave as to volunteer your services as beta readers.

Which reminds me of something that's been on my mind lately: I miss blogging and I really miss my blogger buds. How is everybody? Doing well? Can I get you something to drink? A pillow maybe? You know I'm still your bro, right?

Can I tell you something else? I got a bodhran for Father's Day. Early, yes, because I accidentally opened the email with the order confirmation from Amazon and spoiled the surprise. So when it came in the mail, she just gave it to me. It's really cool too, see?

(Thanks, Babe -- you're the bomb-est.)

A posting of blog

2010-05-18T11:27:00.004-04:00

Even though my blog's been mostly neglected, I feel obligated, I guess, to report that I finished the first draft of 'Talonshale' yesterday. I re-read it today, and my initial findings are that: one, it flows a quicker than I thought it was going to, and two, that maybe I shouldn't have read it so soon after writing it. The suspenseful and emotional parts had no impact on me because they were still too fresh in my mind -- I knew what was going to happen, and I was still seeing it in terms of 'what I meant', instead of 'what I actually wrote'.

Wouldn't it be nice if we could magically erase all knowledge of our own book, and truly experience it as if we were a first time reader?

I suppose that's why we need beta readers. (lil hint)

Ray Veen is not a dork.

2010-04-30T20:26:00.003-04:00

This might be dorky. But don't make fun of me.

It's my main characters. See?.... Really these are only the avatars my main characters are using in their futuristic version of an online role-playing game. I made Oblivion characters out of them and pasted some screenshots together. So now I know you want to make fun of me.

You better not.

Or I'll write you into my story and have really bad stuff happen to you.

Writing update.

2010-04-01T13:25:00.004-04:00

Crazy news. I'm abandoning yet another version of Talonshale.

208 pages this time. Which brings the scrap pile up to over 800 pages -- no exaggeration.

The problem with the current version was that it was based on a plot that was based on knee-jerk reaction to my agent's criticisms of the version before. Does that make sense? Doesn't matter. All you really need to know is that ultimately, I hated the whole freaking thing. Every freaking word. My writing was so consistently awful and uninspired, that I quit everyday feeling depressed. I had to force the words out through sheer, frustrated willpower, and even then, I could barely write thirty pages a week (which is shameful for me). The plot just didn't feel like one my babies. There were no surprises, no twists, just a linear climb up the mundane slope of 'Mount Escalating Peril'. And that's just not how I roll.

And then yesterday I closed my eyes to snooze for ten minutes, and woke up with an amazing idea. One that changes everything. And best of all, it's one that fits my agent's suggestions. I set right to work, and since then, have unleashed a tsunami of creativity that has filled over ten pages of notes: plot, characters, world building, lore, even its own technical jargon. And all of it is more plausible, more creative, and more exciting than anything in any other version. Seriously.

Unfortunately, this also means I'll be starting over again with a new chapter one -- for literally the seventh time. S'okay though. This time I'm finally gonna nail it.

I'm feeling guilty, so I'm posting this on my blog anyway

2010-03-11T12:27:00.002-05:00

This here would probably be more appropriate for my blog, but I'm sharing it here because my blog's been a bit neglected lately, and not too many people care to check it out these days. Kind of hurts my widdle feelings, but it's my own fault for not updating.

Anyway. I'm writing this because I had a good writing day today (sixteen pages) and I reached two monumental goals. Number one: I am at the exact center of my outline, which means I'm halfway done with the first draft, and number two: I killed a really charming character. Falkane the paladin, with his lopsided grin and trademark shock of blonde hair sticking out under the hood of his mail hauberk. He was drowned. Right in the middle of cracking a joke. And unfortunately, we'll never know what the punchline was.

So goodbye Falkane. You were fun to have around, and we'll all miss the light you carried throughout our story. I shan't enjoy writing your funeral, or the dark turn the next hundred pages are scheduled to take.

In other news -- I'ma get my party on this weekend.

I have tomorrow off from work, and Cindy and I are attending a very exclusive, 'invitation only', St. Patrick's Day party at MacCunniffs Pub. Did I mention the invitation came in a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey? Fer serious.

Saturday we're taking the twins to Crazy Bounce in Holland, and then heading up to Whitehall for the big Blarney Bash. We're gonna meet dozens of friends and drink Guinness and get henna tattoos and cheer for MacCunniff himself in the racy 'Mr. Kilt' contest. (Don't hike that thing too high, Rich). And then on Sunday, assuming I've managed to pace myself and my taste for the black brew, we're going to a kick-ass Irish concert: "Slide IE", performing at the Fricano Event Center and capping off the Irish Music Festival's St. Patrick's Day celebration. And I freaking LOVE those guys.

Ougghter be fun. Holler back if you're planning on going to any of these things.

lascivious spiders, angry corpses, and robotic chessmen

2010-02-26T23:45:00.006-05:00

1.) I was injured in the Gulf War by my own gun, the M249 "SAW". I tried to disassemble it with the charging handle cocked (which coils up a massive spring), and when I removed the stock, the steel firing pin blasted out at me, slammed into my mouth, broke two of my teeth, and ricocheted off into the desert. My company commander misunderstood my explanation of the events leading to the injury and talked about nominating me for a Purple Heart.

(It's all true except for the Purple Heart. The Army doesn't reward stupidity... often.)

2.) I've been literally knocked unconscious twice. Once by wrassling with my older cousin, and once by walking into the roof of a porch that had been built by two short guys. . . my father-in-law and his brother.

(My cousin knocked me out. My uncle-in-law's five-foot ten-inch porch only made me cuss my guts out and punch the fender of my car. I'm five-ten-and-a-half -- did I mention?)

3.) After the third consecutive morning of waking up in the woods with spider bites on my lips, I was told by an Army medic that there must be some chemical in my saliva that tastes especially good to arachnids.

(You're gonna hate me for this, but this one's a lie because it was only two nights in a row. Cheap, I know, but spiders DO think I taste good.)

4.) This one time in surgery, I got a bloody scalpel imbedded about three inches in my forearm. The nurse made a sick-looking face, wriggled it out, and we all kept working until the procedure was finished. I bled inside my sleeve for twenty-five minutes.

(Also cheap, but this one's a lie because I only had to bleed in my sleeve for like five minutes. It was a short procedure. Take heart though, friends -- for the rest are anything but cheap.)

5.) Most people won't understand this, but it's actually fairly difficult to lift the body of a deceased patient onto the tray in the bottom drawer of the morgue cooler. They always end up cock-eyed and crooked, and it's a real problem. . . good thing I know a trick. You get down like a runner in starting blocks, and then you slam that sucker shut. Hard! The body kind of rolls up on its side, then flop back down perfectly centered in the stainless steel tray. Works every time.

(Not every time. After one slam in particular, the body ended up wedged way in the back corner of the drawer with his eyes glaring at us all angry-like from out of the darkness. The tech I was with summed it up perfectly, "Oohhhh, we're going to hell".)

6.) My most recent job-related injury occurred while I was retracting a rather large vagina so a surgeon could suture in a bladder sling. He got a little sloppy while he was sewing, and sunk that freaking suture needle deep into the web of my thumb. I was like, "Ouch!... Dude, how could you miss that vagina? -- It's huge!"

(I would never say that to a surgeon -- he felt bad enough about missing the huge vagina without me reminding him. The worst part, though, was that while I was turned around changing into a fresh glove, he kept sewing with the same needle that poked me -- an unprecedented case of 'reverse occupational exposure'.)

7.) My ultimate dream is to learn to play the bouhrain, bouzouki, and penny whistle, and live in a castle tower with Guinness on tap and robot servants made up to look like chessmen who can pour the Guinness and bring it to me. (I would say, 'pour black-and-tans', but that's just a little too unrealistic.)

(Hells yeah! This is the one! It's all true, baby!)

Blog-award-tag-update-post

2010-02-26T15:28:00.008-05:00

What you see here is one of my big excuses for only being on page 91 of my latest manuscript -- I have a second job.

In January I started teaching a surgical technology lab at Baker College, and these here are my splenderific students. Shout out to Christine, Lisa, Shawn and Rhonda. And no that's not my hand wrapped around Shawn's waist. It's Pat's. Pat the surgical mannequin. (Shout out to Pat).

------------------------------------------

And now the real reason updating so quickly (because for me, seventeen days is practically back-to-back): I was given a tag/award thing. By the charismatic writer/poet/music nut, Kelley Pollark. In her own words, I was given this award "because I'd like him to post more."

So thank you very much, Ms. Kelly, and here is the post you wanted:

------------------------------------------

The rules:

1. Thank the person who gave you the award and link them.
2. Add the award to your blog.
3. Tell six outrageous lies about yourself and one truth.
4. Nominate six creative liars ... I mean, writers and link them.
5. Let your nominees know they've been nominated.

Note: I'm breaking the rules a little bit, though. To make it more challenging for the people who really know me, every single one of these things is more or less true. Only of them is completely true. It's okay if I do that, right Kelly? Cuz if I don't mix it with the truth, my wife and my mom will see right through the lies and ruin the fun for everybody else like they've ruined my street cred.

Anyway.

1.) I was injured in the Gulf War by my own gun, the M249 "SAW". Yeah... I tried to disassemble it with the charging handle cocked (which coils up a massive spring), and when I removed the stock, the steel firing pin blasted out at me, slammed into my mouth, broke two of my teeth, and ricocheted off into the desert. My company commander misunderstood my explanation of the events leading to the injury and talked about nominating me for a Purple Heart.

2.) I've been literally knocked unconscious twice. Once by wrassling with my older cousin, and once by walking into the roof of a porch that had been built by two short guys. . . my father-in-law and his brother.

3.) After the third consecutive morning of waking up in the woods with spider bites on my lips, I was told by an Army medic that there must be some chemical in my saliva that tastes especially good to arachnids.

4.) This one time in surgery, I got a bloody scalpel imbedded about three inches in my forearm. The nurse made a sick-looking face, wriggled it out, and we all kept working until the procedure was finished. I bled inside my sleeve for twenty-five minutes.

5.) Most people won't understand this, but it's actually fairly difficult to lift the body of a deceased patient onto the tray in the bottom drawer of the morgue cooler. They always end up cock-eyed and crooked, and it's a real problem. . . good thing I know a trick. You get down like a runner in starting blocks, and then you slam that sucker shut. Hard! The body kind of rolls up on its side, then flop back down perfectly centered in the stainless steel tray. Works every time.

6.) My most recent job-related injury occurred while I was retracting a rather large vagina so a surgeon could suture in a bladder sling. He got a little sloppy while he was sewing, and sunk that freaking suture needle deep into the web of my thumb. I was like, "Ouch!... Dude, how could you miss that vagina? -- It's huge!"

7.) My ultimate dream is to learn to play the bouhrain, bouzouki, and penny whistle, and live in a castle tower with Guinness on tap and robot servants made up to look like chessmen who can pour the Guinness and bring it to me. (I would say, 'pour black-and-tans', but that's just a little too unrealistic.)

------------------------------------------

I am giving this award to: Bryan Bliss, Vivi Alden, Mary Paddock, Madison, Mercedes, and K.M. Walton.

To these guys, and to Kelly, and to everybody else reading this: thanks for being true blogger buddies and checking in on me when I don't update, and coming back for those rare times that I do.

What's up with Ray's writing?

2010-02-09T21:00:00.005-05:00

So the last time I posted, which was over two months ago, I was just finishing up the edits for Talonshale. Remember that? All caught up now? Good. I hope you're reading this sitting down, because what I have to tell you isn't very pleasant. I sent the aforementioned, polished manuscript to my agent, and as it turns out, he wasn't exactly thrilled with the book. He liked the characters, liked the world and concept, but thought it needed a new plot.

Yes, you read that right -- it needed a new plot.

The problem was that Talonshale was a murder mystery, and like many murder mysteries, the main characters weren't seriously threatened until the murderer was unmasked. I'd structured the plot to move from clue to clue -- banking on the 'what's-going-on' factor to keep the reader turning pages. And as my agent pointed out, a book like this, for a market like this, should have more action and conflict and tension -- the plot should move from peril to peril. Aiming a murder mystery at teenage dudes wasn't exactly a bad call, I don't think -- it just wasn't the best call.

And I do want to make the best call.

So, like a good lil' writer-man, feeling slightly cowed and overwhelmed, I started working on a new plot. And that, of course, meant writing an entirely new book -- but in the same world with the same characters.

And what I found was that, actually, coming up with a series of escalating perils isn't so hard. What's stinking hard as hell, and what's had me tearing my hair out and wondering if writer's block might not be the myth I thought it was, is coming up with a series of escalating perils that isn't predictable.

Because once I took the mystery element out of Talonshale, I had nothing left but 'kids-in-danger'. Nothing terribly original or terribly interesting. I literally started writing the book three more times. Three additional first chapters, all of which felt plain and listless. (Oh, and did I mention that before the 350 page version, I'd written 170 pages on an entirely different 'adventurer's journal' version which I eventually scrapped? Yeah. So altogether, I've written over 600 freaking pages under the title 'Talonshale'.)

Anyway. In the interest of wrapping this up before I really start rambling and whining, I'll just tell you where I'm at right now, and let you get back to your lives.

Page 63.

But it's a version that I'm actually pretty happy with. It's first person present, darker and bloodier than the previous versions, and it has that feeling of building up its own momentum -- becoming one of those beast-like stories on the verge of breaking free and running wild of it's own accord. And you know, I reeelly hope it does.

Because right about now, I could reeeally use a story that writes itself .

Paige's note

2009-12-10T11:00:00.009-05:00

So should we? I REALLY don't want to, but it's been

about six months since our sweet lil' Pepper died.

Maaaybe it's time to get a new dog. For the kids.

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

2009-11-10T23:00:00.003-05:00

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

2009-11-04T12:25:00.006-05:00

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.

2009-10-23T00:37:00.006-04:00

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

2009-10-13T23:14:00.006-04:00

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

2009-10-09T13:05:00.003-04:00

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

2009-10-07T12:07:00.007-04:00

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.

2009-10-04T19:22:00.003-04:00

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)

2009-09-30T17:16:00.006-04:00

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

2009-09-28T10:04:00.002-04:00

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

2009-09-18T11:49:00.002-04:00

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

2009-08-31T12:52:00.003-04:00

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.

2009-08-28T08:13:00.003-04:00

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.

No Smokey Three Months

2009-08-18T13:57:00.003-04:00

Like the title says, today is the three month anniversary of my quitting smoking. Afters years of trying, I finally feel like I might have succeeded. But before you start applauding or anything like that, you should know what I had to go through in order to do it.

I visited this fortune teller at a circus that passed through town. Half joking, I asked the lady when I'd finally be able to quit and how I'd go about doing it. She got scary serious, scary fast. There was this chill gust of wind and all the candles flickered and went out. In a creepy, scratchy voice, the lady told me that if I sacrificed three kittens, she could make a potion from their entrails that would enable me to quit smoking, plus give me the power to reach every part of my body with my tongue. So I tried it and guess what -- it worked great. And now, whenever I feel like I need to smoke, I just lick my salty elbow. Who needs to smoke when you can do that?

So yeah, three months no smokey. I actually just quit without doing anything (except eating) but I couldn't just come out and say that. It wouldn't have been long enough to warrent a blog post.

Whateva six.

2009-08-14T09:33:00.005-04:00

Last Whateva Pic, I think. These guys are called, obviously, 'Bishop', 'Rook', and 'Knight'. They're the robots who are gonna live with me in my castle and bring me many Guinness which I'll keep on tap in every room and surely they'll all be pros and pouring Black and Tan's (Bass or Harps will be on tap as well) because, really, pouring a proper Black and Tan is hard to do unless you possess something like precision robotic agility.

Yesterday's post made me kind of miss my future friends. Plus I needed the soothing reminder of my 'Big Dream' -- the transmission just went out in my van.

Whateva five

2009-08-12T17:30:00.003-04:00

I was really into robots for a while but didn't end up writing about them. And. . . yeah. That's all I really have to say about that. The pictures I really want you to see today are located sort of off-campus.

So click this link, look around for a quick minute -- I think it'll make you smile. Veenie Baby Fine Arts

Whateva pics 2 - 4

2009-08-12T09:35:00.003-04:00

Seriously -- I don't feel like posting these every day, so here's a couple more, and yeah -- I probably won't make it to ten. I'm the worst meme guy ever.

BTW, they're all 'research and inspiration' type pictures from my writing files. Some of them might even seem familiar. For those of you who are writers and didn't plan on participating before, I'm going to amend the tag: post a few of the more unusual pictures from your own writing files. Cuz I know you've got 'em. And even though I haven't tagged you by name, you're still tagged, you're still obligated, and I expect to see some dang pictures.

Ten Pictures O' Whateva

2009-08-11T02:38:00.004-04:00

So I've been having a fairly dull summer. I haven't travelled anywhere on either of my vacations, and nothing's happening with my writing, so basically, I've had nothing to blog about. I bring it up because, yeah -- it's my excuse for not updating.

I'm not usually a big meme guy, but I miss the whole blog scene, I'm a little light on content, and cool people like Mercedes and Matt Betts are doing this.

Here goes Whatevapic #1:

Le rules (as posted by Ms. Madison):

1) Post ten of any pictures currently on your hard drive that you think are self-expressive.
2) NO CAPTIONS!!! It must be like we’re speaking with images and we have to interpret your visual language just like we have to interpret your words.
3) They must ALREADY be on your hard drive – no googling or flickr! They have to have been saved to your folders sometime in the past. They must be something you’ve saved there because it resonated with you for some reason.
4) You do NOT have to answer any questions about any of your pictures if you don’t want to. You can make them as mysterious as you like. Or you can explain them away as much as you like. (I'm not gonna be mysterious, and I'm not gonna offer lengthy and boring explanations. I'll just tell you flat out: my pictures come from my writing files. Research and things. Mostly collages.)

BAM! TAGGED! YOU'RE ALL TAGGED!

Say, Ray, what's new?

2009-07-14T14:12:00.003-04:00

Consider this post to be a sort of a virtual bookmark. A placeholder, a tick on the ruler of existence, a really thin pancake slipped between the pages of your favorite book.

No, I'm not on drugs, but I am still here.

Not as busy as I should be. Not making as much writing progress as I should be. But I'm still alive. Just been a lazy summer so far.

Hope y'all are enjoying yours. See you around.

Veenie Vacation

2009-06-24T13:22:00.006-04:00

Veenie Babies are on vacation. Too much fun and joy to be sitting at computer. Thus short sentences. Went to Grand Rapids Children's Museum yesterday. Here are pictures and video. -- Turns out Veenie Daddy is a moron. I thought we were going to an actual museum.

Children's museums are more like massive indoor playgrounds.

Sorry Chantze and Hailie.

"I am my sister's keeper"

"Maybe we should have had a smaller lunch."
(curved mirror + horizontal stripes = illusion of obesity)

Please help your lame writing friend

2009-06-19T02:39:00.003-04:00

I'm about to write this scene where two cousins are playing some rough basketball and trash-talking and whatnot, but it turns out I'm like fifteen percent too lame to do this scene with any authority. So I did what all homely, frightened little writers do when they write about things they're too timid to experience. I researched it.

According to Wikipedia:

Trash-talk is a form of boast or insult commonly heard in competitive situations (such as sports events). It is often used to intimidate the opposition, but can also be used in a humorous spirit. Trash-talk is often characterized by hyperbolic, figurative language, e.g., "Your team can't run! You run like honey on ice!" Puns and other wordplay are commonly used.

"Ah," I said to myself, "hyperbole -- an effective literary device. . . and yet, I'm not all that keen on the hip vernacular the kids are using these days."

So then I researched examples of trash-talking.

I'm posting some of the highlights here, but please be aware -- these are not simply for entertainment purposes. I'm also wanting to know if any of these insults are overused or cliche' or even just plain not as funny as I think they are. So read on, and if you have any good (and fairly original) insults to add, pass them along. As always, I will steal them and hog all credit.

"You're so ugly, your birth certificate is an apology letter."

"Let's play horse -- I'll be the front end, you be yourself."

"You're so dumb, they fired you from the M&M factory for throwing out all the 'W's."

"You're so dirty, whenever you take a shower you lose weight."

"All that hot air pouring out of your face is causing global warming."

"Could you breathe the other way? You're bleaching my hair."

Watch as I slowly flake out

2009-06-12T06:42:00.007-04:00

By show of hands, who else besides me is a big fat quitter?

I'm talking about unfinished manuscripts, and not the kind where you only write ten or twelve pages, then realize you're not really all that crazy about the idea. I'm talking about significant portions of novels that you've utterly abandoned to the dark and cold basement of your hard drive. Anybody got more than a couple of those?

Cuz yeah -- my Dreamkin story just wasn't doing it for me.

I can't really say what wasn't working, but for the last couple weeks, even when I've done significant writing on it, I haven't wanted to think about Dreamkin. Weird right? I don't know about you, but when I've got a good story going, my spare thoughts are always swirling in and out of it like, um, fog through swiss cheese. (Or something). Instead, my mind has been continuously fixated on this other story idea. The new story idea. The one with all the castle sculptures.

Like these:

Ultimately I couldn't force myself to work on a story that I just wasn't excited about and so I moved on. Despite having written 165 pages on Dreamkin. Maybe I'll come back to it someday, maybe I won't. Either way, the sad truth remains, the little guy's headed to a basement that suffers from over-crowding:

Gameworld Talonshale -- 173 pages
Pipe and Drum -- 115 pages
Hyperkind/Silverwing -- 80-ish pages
Solhades*
Thundergate Tower*
Bagabog*
Rustang*

(*average maybe thirty pages each)

My finished novels still outnumber my unfinished novels, so that makes me feel just a tiny bit better, but still. . . geez. . . am I a flake or what? Any of you folks got anything encouraging to say about that?

--------------------------------------------------------

Today's blog post bonus:

(purty, no?)

Links for the very brave.

2009-06-09T07:15:00.002-04:00

I do not recommend clicking on these links. I've only posted them because I want you to be able to clearly identify what NOT to click on. These are two things I've happened across recently, both are terrifying to behold, yet utterly fascinating in that 'dear-God-it's-so-hideous-I-can't-stop-looking' kind of way.

This warning is completely serious. If you click on either of these links, your life may be irrevocably changed -- and not in a good way.

Proceed at your own risk.

This may make you stop writing altogether.

This may plunge you into cardiac arrest.

Veenie Baby stuff

2009-06-03T10:55:00.005-04:00

Above: the twins wanted me to judge their big coloring contest, but I was so delighted and amazed and enthusiastic over both entries, -- I couldn't possibly make up my mind.

Then I thought, "Hey, my blog buddies are a perceptive and decisive bunch -- surely they'll have the courage to decide which of my daughters should be proud and excited, and which should run to her bed and hide under her covers and cry." --- Incidentally, my girly girls love when I blog about them, so they'll most likely be reading any responses posted here.

Below: The Cat-Eater learns a marketable skill for a change. (Because despite what they say, playing video games does NOT give you a real world advantage by improving hand-eye coordination. -- I know this because I used to put it on my resume. And. . . yeah. . .)

One last one. A "bonus video" if you will:

Blog post sans poetry.

2009-06-01T19:56:00.004-04:00

So you might have noticed that I've been really active on the blogs and Facebook and whatnot over the last week. You know what that means, right? I haven't been writing. You wanna know why?

*I haven't been smoking.*

Yeah. Attempt number four-hundred and four. I'm doing it without any kind of assistance, cuz that always seems to work best for me (at least when I'm really wanting to quit and not doing it out of guilt). At midnight tonight, it will be one week, with zero indiscretion.

I'm not posting to whine or complain about how hard it is or anything like that; I only bring it up because it has direct bearing on our special time together -- Quit for a week. Doing good. Playtime's over. Back to work on Dreamkin.

But never you fear, for I shall remain close by. Watching and reading. By cover of dark and shadows. My unwavering gaze sees all. . .

Side question: anybody ever work on a book they're just not all that thrilled about?

Poetry Friday: Lighter than Air

2009-05-28T22:39:00.017-04:00

Lighter than air

by Ray Veen

Very soon I will let go, and sail away

like a wooden ship on ocean swells.
My hands are small flesh, the bark is rough.

It stitches my fingers to the limb.

A slow breeze tussles my hair, flutters my

eyelashes, the cool soaks my skin.
It makes my shoelaces quiver

in the empty space, and we all sway.
Above me, below me, on every side,

the leaves are rustling and I listen.

Everything sways and I hang and feel and listen.
To the low rush, the whisper that swells,

like the slow-motion crash of the surf.

Somewhere, down beyond my feet,

there are green ferns vibrant.
Beneath that, white sticks dry and brown leaves dead.
Far below, but it doesn’t matter.

When I let go I will come nowhere near them.

I will throw myself towards the moon –

I will swim through soupy skies.

Very soon now.

Gravity will no longer be my master.

(Here is this week's round-up, host-type lady, Irene -- a person who seems to know how to write actual poetry)

A barn. Behind my house. Then rain.

2009-05-26T09:18:00.002-04:00

No, I'm not going soft. Sheesh. I just love the rain, and I like writing love poetry for my wife. You do know I drink beer, right?

Poetry Friday

2009-05-22T01:17:00.008-04:00

First a contest announcement: click your way over to my buddy, Ms. KM Walton, for a chance to win free, original, personalized, super-creative business cards (or invitations, or what-have-you) from Uniquely Noted. Of course, you'll be competing against me, so, if you can handle that kind of heat -- better bring your A-game.

This contest just happens to perfectly coincide with my first ever crack at 'Poetry Friday', a creative phenomenon that's sweeping the blogosphere like a California brush fire. Thank you, Kelly, for spilling a little gasoline on me, (and then casually discarding a cigarette butt.*) When I figure out where you can find this week's host of Poetry Friday, this here sentence will become an actual link.

A few things you should know:

1. My wonderful little wife has gone out of town for three days
2. I miss her when she's gone.
3. So my first poem is kind of a love thing, which I writed.
4. If you make fun me, I will spam your blog with links to Viagra advertisements.
5. Did I mention my poetry's not all that good?

Disclaimer: It's true. I'm not much of a poet. In fact, I keep all of my poetry hidden. Because of the almost certain death-blow which shall swiftly descend upon my already flagging 'street-cred'.

All right. Enough with the apologetic preambles. Here it is: a love poem from a doofus.

-----------------------------------------------

Waiting to Sleep
by Ray Veen

It is dim and I am waiting
for you to come to bed.
I see you in the bright
brushing, foaming spitting,
hair pulled back strict, looking
at your reflection through thick glasses,
seeing no makeup, seeing a tired face,
seeing what I cherish.

In the bedroom.

You unhook your bra but keep your t-shirt and panties on.
A toned abdomen beneath sagging skin that reminds me
of my treasured ones.

‘Have I told her yet today, how beautiful she is?’

You slip in and press close
as if desperate, but you are simply tired.
There is half a bed beyond you.
And sometimes I complain about that.

Secretly I adore it.

Our bodies welded lengthwise in nothing more spectacular than imminent rest but
we are one in it – as in all things.

I trace your shape.
Like I always do.
Firm and smooth then a bony knob.
A soft dip.
Then, ribs.
And then I stop.
Because I know you hate to be tickled.

I cup you.
Strap you in iron.
I press our minds side-to-side
unwinding, ready to sleep.
Comfort swells
from beneath and beyond and within

and we can sleep.

--------------------------------------------

*Ms. Polark's tobacco use and/or nicotine addiction can neither be confirmed nor denied.

Ten Worthy Young Adult Books

2009-05-15T07:37:00.002-04:00

I just posted this in Amazon's feedback forum. The full title of the thread was "Ten Worthy Young Adult Books by Authors Not Named J.K. Rowling or Stephenie Meyer".

I read that, and instantly thought of you: my blog-buddies. Would y'all like some input?

--------------------------------------------------------------

Mr. Veen says:

I love a fast paced-adventure, I love to be bowled over by breathtaking, creative concepts, and I LOVE surprises. I am addicted to those moments when you say, "Whoa... I didn't see that coming!" The books I've listed here are pretty much all well-known best-sellers, but they have those moments. They meet my criteria for great YA. And even though most of them have already been mentioned, I'm adding my vote to kind of reinforce how good they are.

*Note: I love YA fantasy, but NOT Potter and Twilight, so this thread is perfect for me.

Fablehaven is my favorite series right now -- simply blowing me away.
Abhorsen Trilogy -- My second favorite. Love this, loathe Keys to the Kingdom. Sorry Mr. Nix.
Pendragon Chronicles -- I've been biting my nails through nine thick books to find out what the heck is really going on.
Percy Jackson and the Olympians series -- It's everything good fiction should be, except without a cool title.
Warrior Heir, Wizard Heir, Dragon Heir -- great concept, high adventure
Tithe series -- dark and beautiful and haunting
Dreamhunter -- The Dreamhunter Duet: a wonderful two book series. Little known, but very very unique and compelling -- highly recommended (author: Elizabeth Knox)
Ender's Game -- One of my all time favorite books, in any genre. I'm very sorry I couldn't get into any of the sequels. They just didn't have the same feel.
Howl's Moving Castle -- Quirky and fun. Super creative, lots of surprises.
Maximum Ride -- I LOVED these books. But somehow, somewhere near the middle of the third one, the magic seemed to fizzle. Big time. I swear you can almost feel the exact moment when James Patterson gets tired of writing them.

Mainly for my co-workers

2009-05-12T23:51:00.002-04:00

Congratulations Elyssa! Your co-workers want you to know that we had a great time at your wedding and reception, and that you looked really pretty, and that we think Josh is maybe slightly weird (okay, that last part's from me).

So here's a link to the full album -- all the pictures from the camera that Jaymi stole from our table. Hope you like them. Especially all the shots of the cleav... er, I mean -- the ones where Jaymi wanted to show off everybody's outfits. Can you guess whose are whose?

(is my wife not incredibly hot?)

The only writing I got done today

2009-05-07T13:11:00.005-04:00

This here post falls into all three categories: writing and family AND whatnot.

I came home from work last night and found a series of colorful notes and pictures on the counter. They were all from the youngest Veenie Baby, Paige.

--------------------------------------------

Dear Dad,

I want you to put this in one of your books. This picture is about a girl who made friends with a alien. But the girl use to fight with all the aliens. Please put it in your book. Thank you.

From: Paige Elaine (#1 God – #2 Dad)

--------------------------------------------

I don’t know if that last bit represents some kind of scorecard between me and God or what, but I decided to save everything regardless. To tell the truth, I wasn’t really planning on writing a story about a girl who makes friends with aliens, but I changed my mind this morning when Paige woke up with strep throat.

She was so miserable, curled up on my lap, listing all of her aches and symptoms in a despondent voice. I wanted to take her mind off it, so I asked her to tell me more about her story. That’s when she insisted I boot up my teeny-tiny computer and start typing it immediately.

She can be like that sometimes (okay, most of the time).

So yeah, It was kind of hard to type with her in my lap. Her constant editorial criticisms made it even harder, but we got ‘er done, and here it is. Tell us what you think.

--------------------------------------------

Friends
By Paige Elaine Veen (and ghostwriter)

Once upon a time, a girl named Tiffany was sleeping in her bed. Suddenly her room filled up with light and she woke up and said, “What’s going on?”

She saw the light was coming from outside her window, so she looked out and saw something floating in the air over her yard. It was pink and black, and at first she thought it was a cool looking Frisbee. But then the light sort of grabbed hold of her and pulled her out into the night sky. She was really scared, but she didn’t cry, even though the light was pulling her up into the big, floating disc.

Tiffany drifted in through an opening in the side, and found herself in a little room surrounded by green aliens. They came towards her and put metal cuffs around her ankles. She was still scared, but she had the courage to ask, “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because you look so weird and different.” Their leader answered. Then he sent her down to the prison and the aliens locked her up in a cage.

It was still night, and Tiffany was still tired, so even though she was terribly frightened, she eventually fell asleep. When she woke up, she didn’t feel so good. There had been a guard watching her, and when he noticed her sickness, he sent for the alien nurse, Tressia.

The nurse checked the girl over and decided that she had the flu. She gave her some alien medicine, and Tiffany started to feel better, but Tressia felt bad for her. That night, when all the other aliens were asleep, Tressia snuck back into the prison and led Tiffany back to the door in the spaceship.

“What are you doing?” Tiffany asked.

“I’m helping you,” the nurse answered. “I think it’s wrong to kidnap people because they look different, and so I’ve landed the spaceship near your house.”

“But I thought you couldn’t help me, don’t all the aliens hate me?”

Tressia smiled. “Well I’m a nurse. Nurses are supposed to be nice. Right?”

“Well you’re an alien, you’re different from me.”

Tressia just stood there and opened the outside door. Tiffany looked out and could see her yard. “Go,” the nurse said, “you should be with your family.”

Tiffany was so grateful, she gave the alien nurse a big hug. And so they were friends.

The little girl got off the spaceship, and walked up her yard towards her house. As the spaceship flew away, Tiffany couldn’t help but think that no matter how different two people were – they could still be friends.

The end.

Paige, Dad, and Brooke from the Daddy/Daughter Dance from a few weeks back. Brooke wants to get in on the story action, so expect another very similar post in the near future.

YA question

2009-05-05T16:35:00.003-04:00

Just kinda thinking out loud here (figuratively) -- I'm about 100 pages into my MS, and I'm about to start a section of my story where my two main characters steal a motorcycle from the bad guys and take off on a cross country adventure. I picture them on the motorcycle -- two dudes -- and it just doesn't gel for me.

Then I had a thought: "Hey, why not make the bad boy into a bad girl?"

The advantage: it would add a tantalizing new dimension to this character, not to mention bolster some authenticity issues I'm having with their relationship.

The problem: the 'new dimension' would look something like sexual tension.

I know it's supposed to be okay to be gritty and real. Teenagers deal with this kind of stuff everyday. I'm just not that comfortable writing about it cuz I can't get past the idea that it's akin to encouraging it. But on the other hand, I can feel it in the artsy/writey part of my heart -- it's what's right for this story.

Thoughts anybody?

Oneironaut/Dreamkin/something

2009-04-27T07:13:00.007-04:00

It starts as an experiment to bridge human dreams, but the test subjects soon discover that there are certain objects in the dreamworld that can be carried back to the physical world. Strange and powerful objects. Objects that defy the normal restrictions of reality. Objects that are being hunted by an eldritch, shapeshifting spirit.

(Title and elevator pitch still under construction)

------------------------------------------------------------

Have you ever noticed that the more you blog, the less you write? At least for me, it is as immutable as the three laws of thermodynamics. Not convinced? Then I shall endeavor to prove my theory empirically, using the following formulaic expression:

(The interplay between quantitative focus on writing

versus blogging, and its effects on creativity.)

So you might be getting the impression that the only thing I've been posting lately are excuses for not posting. And yeah, that pretty much sums it up. I'm writing up a storm right now, so hopefully all you lovely writer folks will understand. And stick around. And not un-follow me.

No title

2009-04-13T15:49:00.002-04:00

Hello all. Just a quick update to thank you all for your awesome dreams -- I'm sure they'll be a big help. Sorry I didn't thank you all individually, and I haven't been visiting your blogs. I've been sick as crap since Friday. It sucks because I don't get sick much. In fact, I think it's been about two years since the last time I was sick like this: sinuses, fever, chills, cough -- the whole nasty works. Anyway. Just wanted to take a minute to lay out my big excuse. Hope y'all are feeling good and doing well.

Incidentally, if you're interested, here's one of the more useful sites I've found for dream theories and interpretation: Dream moods.

Dreams. I need 'em.

2009-04-09T20:57:00.005-04:00

I guess we could call it a contest, but I ain't buying no prizes or nuthin. How does 'sincere gratitude' sound for a prize?

Anyway. I'm working on a story now that has five big scenes set in the realm of dreams. But like I told my good friend Vivi, I don't want to write cheesy, 'Hollywood'-type dream sequences that don't resemble anything any normal person would dream -- I'm looking for common elements, common themes: things that will make a reader say, "Oh yeah, I've had dreams like that."

Having a monster chase you and only being able to run in slow motion, showing up for work and realizing you forgot to wear pants, having your teeth inconveniently drop out in the middle of a conversation -- things like that. I've already done a good bit of research, but I'd like to hear from normal folks too. Especially writers -- because I've noticed they tend to have pretty colorful ones.

If you'd like to help a brother out, you can leave short dream descriptions in my comments, or, if they're more personal somehow, you can email them to veen.ray@gmail.com. And wilder IS better. I want my dream scenes to have familiar elements, but I also want them to be creative, original and breath-taking. So anything you have to contribute would be greatly appreciated. My intention is to use them for inspiration, but who knows? I just might steal them outright -- I can be a jerk that way.

To kick this thing off, I'll share one of my recent ones:

-----------------------------------------------

I was some kind of desk cop, working in an office with two other desk cops. This creepy, wacked-out, weirdo came in and started being belligerent and insulting, like he wanted to get arrested -- even going so far as to poke us and deliberately jostle us as we worked. Because he seemed to want to be arrested, we were reluctant to do so -- until he shoved me.

I got mad and told him that if he did that one more time, I'd take him into custody, and of course, he did it again. So me and my desk cop buddies hopped up and tried to arrest him. He started to fight back, but he was grinning and hollering and laughing like it was the most fun he ever had. In my dream, I got the icky sense that this was part of some kind of sick fetish for him.

Anyway. Once we had him on the ground and restrained, he let out this explosive burst of diarrhea that he'd apparently been holding for this exact moment. It soaked his pants, and pooled beneath him, and in my dream -- I could actually smell it!

It made me choke and gag, and I stumbled away making some sort of 'hurp' sound while the guy and my cop buddies laughed at me.

So go ahead. Psychoanalyze. Just be sure to leave a little something in exchange.

Today's 'word-of-the-day'

2009-04-03T09:25:00.006-04:00

Here's a new word for all you writer/blogger types: oblogated -- it's derived from the English word blog ('web log': to chronicle one's adventures in a public, on-line journal) and obligation (to be bound by a sense of responsibility or commitment). The word is used to described a blog entry that contains little or no information of note, posted only to placate one's vague compulsion to update.

It is best used when one hasn't written a blog entry in two or more weeks, yet has nothing important to relate that would be of interest to one's community of online readers.

A sample oblogated post:

--------------------------------------------

So I've been writing a bit lately, kind of waffling on what to work on, though. Work's been rough. I hate how they expect you to actually exert yourself in exchange for money -- doesn't seem right, somehow. Family's fine, kids're fine, wife is fine (and I do mean 'fine' -- happy Friday, Babe). Oh look , the mail's here. Reminds me of a song: "Here's the mail it never fails it makes me want to wag my tail, when it comes I want to wail.... " Wierd. I can't remember that last word. Anybody know what that last word is? Anyhow, I like Guinness -- have I mentioned? Yeah. Pretty much gotta sneak that into every post somehow. Speaking of Guinness, here's a picture so y'all have something to look at besides little rows of black marks.

This concludes today's 'word-of-the-day' discussion. Please note that the term 'oblogated' and all of its derivatives ('obloge', 'oblogation', 'oblogatory', etc.) are the sole intellectual property of Bigplainv Enterprises. Word may be used in any manner consistant with the shared goals of writers and bloggers worldwide, yet each usage shall necessitate a payment of one quarter. Checks may be made payable to "Bigplainv Beer Fund".

"Update" (no better way to title this post)

2009-03-23T12:14:00.008-04:00

This picture is not part of the original post -- I just stole it. (My mom's been hit by a smooth criminal)

First off, I want to thank everybody for their outpouring of sympathy on that last post. Pepper was a sweet dog, the Veenie-Babies miss her terribly, and I truly appreciate your compassion and understanding. This blog is supposed to be about my family as much as it is about my writing, but for the most part, I often end up focusing on the writing. I guess what I'm trying to say is: it's really nice to have my writer friends are lifting us up in this non-writing-related matter.

And so... life goes on.

I suppose we could talk about writing fer a spell.

A couple posts ago, I mentioned how my agent suggested I "develop other projects" while we wait for news on our submissions. At first, I had this really quirky idea for a futuristic, dark, 'Little Mermaid' adaptation, but whenever I described it to somebody, thier eyes would glaze over and they'd give me this phony half-smile -- "That sounds... interesting."

So that particular plot is now interred in my extensive idea graveyard.

Instead, I've returned to what is perhaps one of my most original, creative, and marketable ideas ever. I actually wrote 173 pages of a first draft about two years ago, but then had to scrap it because of serious flaws with pacing, plot progression, and a disturbing lack of character development. Somehow the thing was moving way too quickly, but getting nowhere. Dead leaves in a strong wind. Anybody ever have a problem like that? If so, I'd sure like to hear how you dealt with it.

(Boredom alert -- technical babbling to follow)

My plan so far has been to de-constuct the plot in a spreadsheet. I'm hoping to get a good view of the bare skeleton, in order to decide where scenes need to be added, cut, or moved around. I'm done with that step, and now I'm re-writing the central plot, and hoping to superimpose the new skeleton over the old. Then I can start cutting and moving and adding according to a more impartial and intelligent plan. Does that sound too clinical? Too organized? A part of me just wants to keep busy while I wait for good news from my agent, but the artist in me is sort of disgusted by that attitude.

"It's an awesome story idea, Ray, it deserves your best effort."

"Don't lecture me, Ray... jeez... I hate when you get all artsy and snobby."

"Sorry, man -- want to grab a sandwich?"

She was a good dog

2009-03-19T21:01:00.001-04:00

Goodbye, girl -- we're sure gonna miss you.

Jam and Jug's Marine Oddsey

2009-03-12T12:46:00.006-04:00

"She waits for him. In the murk. In the dark and cold. Her prince."

On the advice of my agent, I've switched gears from writing a sequel, to developing a new project. This picture has to do with my latest concept, which, in all honesty, is pretty goofy.

It properly executed, it could turn out to be quirky and surprising and original. If not, then I'm a hack with stupid story ideas.

crap-sucking-head-burning-fire

2009-02-26T12:39:00.002-05:00

Don't feel much like writing today cuz of a nasty-ass headache. So thanks to Paul and his charismatic, inspirational ways, I did this instead:

"V"-log.

THE GOOD STUFF

2009-02-25T13:16:00.005-05:00

I'm back in the saddle and, dang -- it shore feels good.

It's actually been six months since I've done any serious writing and guess what? I'm kind of rusty. One sentence will be clunky, the next will be brilliant, and then I'll have one that smell's like urine-soaked landfill. But it's all coming back to me. Ever so slowly.

And most importantly -- I'm loving it.

So you're probably wondering 'why'. What have I been doing for the last six months? Cuz it's not like I haven't been engaged in writerly pursuits: I've been editing, revising, reworking, and doing additional drafts of the book that's finally in submissions. (Plus a whole lot of critting.) So yeah, 'editing' and 'revising' and 'additional drafts' are all pretty much the same thing. But I've done so much of it that it feels like sixty two different steps.

And now I'm on to the good stuff.

First drafts are fun as hell, and if my history holds true, I'll probably gear up to about twenty-five thousand words a week. Once I get my sea legs back, of course. Usually when I write first drafts, I do it with feverish intensity -- I throw myself into it everyday -- neglecting things like blogs and email and children. I think about my story every waking moment, and I lean on it with all my weight, trying to squeeze out every last twist of plot juice. Next to Guinness, plot-juice is my favorite flavor. (Creative-honey is my third.)

As you can probably tell, this whole 'first-draft' part of the writing process makes me giddy. Inside my head. I feel like I've suddenly been given superpowers -- and in a way I have. When it comes to being a writer, only the actual 'writing' gives you that kind of high. Am I right?

And so, my writer/blogger friends, I'm gonna ask for your forgiveness in advance, cuz I have no plans of checking the blogs with any regularity. But I do still love and adore you guys, and I hope you'll still be here in six weeks when I put Solhades in a drawer.

(Zokutou question: do you have to paste the code every time you want to update your word cout? If so, I might not post my progress with any regularity either)

"Snowy Day" -- by the Veenie Babies

2009-02-15T11:03:00.006-05:00

Brooke writes poetry. Paige is a performer. Together they came up with every aspect of this production.

I love these little girly-girls soooo much.

(Edited to share this: 20 Things to do with chopsticks when you're bored. An excellent commentary on the true nature of the Veenie Babies. Thank-you, Veeflower

So yeah, I'm back. But you know -- it was a nice two weeks. With all the extra time to work on my outline and play Skip-Bo with my kids, I'm not entirely sure how important this blog is to me anymore.

No, I'm not quitting.

Just... re-prioritizing.

No change.

2009-02-06T13:45:00.005-05:00

I'm still computerless, but still checking in from time to time. The surgery schedule's been rough lately, so I've had only scant, tantalizing moments to buzz through my email and blogs. I've skimmed most of your posts, but it seems I never have enough to time to come up with a witty comment. It's left me feeling like there's this great party going on, but I can't participate because my mom grounded me for not taking out the garbage. It's really strange. Without constant internet access, I'm filled with this perpetual, disconnected, depressing emptiness. I'm exaggerating, of course, but I still think I might have some new, undefined form of emotional disorder.

Modern technology has it's dark side, no?

Anyway. The dead quiet at my house in the mornings has given me loads of time to outline my next book. I'm technically done with it, but while I'm still without a word processor, I have nothing to do but think up addtional tweaks and twists. Like creatures made of cold fire that chase you around and try to crawl down your throat. And floating masks that allow you to monitor your various assassination attempts. And ways to make food and tools using every part of a giant insect.

So I'm getting by, I suppose.

Thanks for dropping by and commenting. I hope to return the favor soon.

A new and better excuse for not updating.

2009-01-29T21:07:00.005-05:00

I like you blog people, have I told you that lately?

And so it is with heavy heart that I make the following announcement: computer number two took its final, ragged breath yesterday -- which leaves me with a total of zero computers.

So. Until my teeny-tiny notebook gets shipped back to me, I might miss some of y'all's blog posts here and there. Which I really hate because I have this thing where I feel compelled to stay current with each and every person who comments on my blog. Between that and the fact that I don't have TV, I give it two days before I start to manifest actual physical symptoms of withdrawal (mood swings, irritibility, uncontrollable tremors).

But here's the good news: the computer didn't die until I'd finished the absolute last of my revisions and sent it out to my agent, along with the marketing materials he'd asked for. So yeah, those files are safe, and even better -- I'm officially in the 'submitting' phase of my writing career. (Okay, we haven't actually sent anything out yet, but mentally, I'm in the submitting phase.)

Just so you know, I do have internet access at the hospital, but they expect me to participate in surgery from time-to-time, so I can't count on that to feed my addiction. Those jerks.

Thinking of elevators.

2009-01-27T00:05:00.010-05:00

I was at a bar not too long ago and happened to run into my aunt and some of her friends. She brought one of the ladies over and introduced me as her 'writer nephew', and went on to say some very enthusiastic things about the absolute inevitability of my book getting published.

So of course the lady wanted to know. "What's your book about?"

I don't know about the rest of you writer folk, but that is a question I absolutely dread. How can one possibly describe their 500 page novel in under ten seconds? Especially while yelling to be heard over the God-awful karaoke singers. I sat there thinking of how much and what I should tell her, but nothing was clicking. I was drawing a blank (did I mention the place had Guinness on tap?).

So my response was, "Uh......... I don't know."

"You don't know what your own book is about?"

What I meant was that I didn't know how to describe it. I wasn't prepared to talk about it. And the place had Guinness on tap. "No, well -- yeah, I know what it's about... It's basically about these kids that get mental powers because they're like, descended from fallen angels and mortal women. Only they don't know that, see?"

The way I described it, of course, made it sound like the crappiest book ever -- even to me.

The problem, I think, is that I've never developed an 'elevator pitch': a two or tree line synopsis of the entire book. I've never been to a conference, I have no immediate plans to go, and even if I did, I wouldn't need to pitch my book to an agent because, yeah, I've already got me one o' them thar critters.

But clearly an elevator pitch would help me to look less like an idiot, and more like someone who has a decent grasp of the crap he actually hopes to sell one day.

Anyhow. I bring this up because I finished what hopefully will be my final revision of Fiersom's Brood, and I'm all set to start writing the second book, 'Solhades', see the cool picture I made up at the top there? I'm toying with the plot in my little creative muscle right now, and soon I'll embark on my behemoth outlining journey as described below. Only this time, I'm gonna try this technique I came across several months ago called 'The Snowflake Method' It has similarities to my method, only it's somehow even MORE organized, and it starts with an 'elevator pitch' synopsis.

So I'm gonna go work on that now. Maybe I'll post it when I've got it down. In the meantime, I'll leave you with a synopsis of Fiersom's Brood that I toyed with for my query, oh so long ago. I eventually scrapped it because it was too short, but now -- I think I need to go ahead and memorize the freaking thing.

Cuz it's humiliating not being able to describe your own dang book.

-------------------------------------------------------

They are Nephilim: descendants of fallen angels and mortal women. God sent His great flood, in part, to wipe out every trace of their abominable civilization, yet a remnant survives, hidden beneath ocean and earth, striving to redeem themselves under an impending curse. One-thousand generations later: a group of teens slowly unravel the secret of their ancestry.

. . . and the source of their power.

--------------------------------------------------------

So now you tell me, what's the elevator pitch for your latest novel? And I realize this sounds like a routine question to get you to leave a comment, but seriously, I love hearing what other people's books are about. I honestly want to hear all of your synopses, with all my widdle heart. Please don't disappoint me.

I could learn something.

An important post regarding January 20th

2009-01-20T12:29:00.010-05:00

1.) Today is the 38th anniversary of my birth.

2.) I'm okay with that.

3.) Because my life just keeps getting better and better. Click here to see how great my life is. (Thanks, Cindy -- you are my whole reason.)

4.) Life is one helluva journey, no? As you can see by the following pictures:

(okay, honestly, these pictures were both taken today, the only difference is that there was a shower somewhere in between them -- which says something profound about humanity and life's journey and all that. Surely you can see the profound thing of which I refer to. No? Look at the pictures again.)

5.) I've been home all morning and already more than a dozen people have wished me a happy birthday. God I love the internet. Thanks, Al Gore.

6.) And speaking of political figures, I believe something else is going on today, only I can't quite remember what it is.

7.) Perhaps certain wildly popular statesman should pick a different day to have as their special day. January 20th is already taken.

The world's biggest outline nerd.

2009-01-16T10:16:00.002-05:00

This post is for Denise, and for everybody else who's ever asked me about my outlining fetish.

Whenever I start a new book-length project, I've gotta have me a big fat outline. I don't know if it's a strength or a weakness, but I like to have the bulk of my thinking done before I sit down to write. But no, I don't sit down and write a hundred page outline just off the top of my head, the behemeth grows in stages, in kind of ever-expanding layers.

I take a notebook (yep, still do it longhand) and write the central concept/story idea on the first page. That usually takes a paragraph to half a page. Then I expand on it, basically writing like a four or five page synopsis of the plot, and just so you know, everything's fluid at this point. This stuff always changes dramatically -- I'll get better ideas or realize something is either too cliche' or just plain doesn't work. Point is: you've gotta have something to start with.

So after I have my four page synopsis, that's when I really have to put on the breaks. Until a few books back, my characters were always thin and wimpy and tasted like sawdust. So now I practically write their entire life's stories BEFORE I move into the main outlining phase. That way I know who they don't like and what they're keeping secret, and how they'll react to the things that are gonna happen. Having a firm and intimate idea of who each of my characters are helps me grow the plot around them, to allow it to be shaped by their personalities and decisions. This kind of stuff usually fills twenty-plus pages.

Kay, nuff on that. My kids are gonna get off the bus pretty soon.

So here we are: we know what's gonna happen in the story and we know what kind of people it's gonna happen to. And this, my friends, is the moment I live for -- the entire reason I write. This is where we get to make a story.

I basically do it with a bullet list. Nerdy, right?

I list every single thing that's gonna happen, in fairly strict detail, leaving about four blank lines between items. For a 200 page book , this outline will fill an entire section of a three subject notebook, for a large book (like Fiersom's Brood), it eats the whole dang thing. Here's an example of what my outline entries might look like:

-- When Biff gets back to the mansion, he finds that the whole staff is gone for the day (Buffy sent them home early then took Biff jr. to the zoo)

-- Biff gets excited and goes to his special closet where he hides all his gangsta duds. Then he cranks up the stereo and starts practicing the Soulja Boy dance.

-- Satan appears in the mirror. "Your soul is mine, bud."

So this little bit right here would probably translate into a two to five page scene, depending on how the conversation goes. Yes, I do put dialogue in my outline. Usually it's not something that's gonna be copied verbatim into the book, though, it's just meant to be representative of the conversation.

Alrighty then. The last thing I'm gonna mention is the spaces between entries, and you know what they're for, right? That's where the coffee stains go. And all the freaking inevitable changes. All of the things I forgot. Notes on plot twists. Sometimes even sketches. Let's just say, yeah, they get filled, and yeah, it looks like crap. But it makes writing the first draft very very easy. What I've got at this point is something very close to a screenplay, and all I've got to do is novelize it. Easy-peasy. I have never -- not once in my life -- experienced anything even remotely close to 'writer's block', and I can usually write about 60-80 pages a week, and I think it's because, like I said, most of my thinking is already done.

Once I'm done with my massive outline, writing my book becomes a matter of putting frosting on cake. (note: my outlining process takes one week, two if I'm lazy)

So now you tell me. How much work do y'all do before you start writing?

Like I needed a reason to procrastinate.

2009-01-12T11:17:00.007-05:00

I totally should have been editing. Instead, I started doing this:

(Cindy is probly gonna kill me)

(please listen with good speakers or earbuds - PC speakers make it sound like crap which it isn't totally)

Anyway. As you can see, I'm merely a passable musician. I figure if I were about 5-10 percent more talented, I probably could've made a run at being in a band or something. As it is, gee-tar is one helluva restful hobby.

So that was the Jack Johnson song I was talking about in my last post. Now, here's a bonus track dedicated to the freaking snow.

(PS: I call this concert series 'Live from the Can' because, yeah, I was in the bathroom. Good acoustics. Oh, and did I mention that I wrote both those songs?)

Don't waste your time reading this.

2009-01-11T12:20:00.006-05:00

My geetar songs

Got no real reason for posting anything. I quickly got tired of Twilight occupying the prominant position of being at the top of my blog, plus I wanted to see how imeem looks on a blog post -- not sure I like it. This is a song I'm learning right now, thought about posting a video of me playing it, but then I realized that that would be narcissistic.

And I am as humble as Ghandi.

Twi-lame

2009-01-08T23:19:00.005-05:00

I really shouldn't be blogging, so I'm gonna keep this short.

I just finished reading Twilight, and I felt the strong, STRONG urge to share my thoughts on it.

I shall do so in the form of a pie chart, which graphically represents my summation of the overall plot.

Feel free to disagree with me, because I'm not the world's biggest literary critique guy, but I think this book would only appeal to people who enjoy reading about dreamy guys. It is not a love story, it is not a vampire story, it is not really any kind of story at all. It is a really long description of how hot Edward was supposed to be.

Unfortunately, none of it did anything for me. So I am officially dubbing this book 'most over-rated drivel ever'. (Cuz Twilight-related titles hold 14 of the top 15 spots on Amazon's 'best sellers for teens' list)

Fiersom's Brood update.

2009-01-06T12:22:00.011-05:00

Many of you already know this from FB, but my agent has suggested cutting 100 pages. You know what that means right? Not so much bloggy in the next few weeks.

I got the email last night (Mr. Bliss was kind of 'there' to share my dread), so first thing this morning, I got up and attacked the scenes with a sharp knife -- before they had a chance to fully wake up. I find murder to be fairly easy when you're victims are groggy, so, you know, next time you gotta kill something. . .

---------------------------------------

So any of you writer guys have to make major cuts like that before? How did it make you feel? Did you cry? You can tell me. I won't point and laugh. Honestly, I'm not much of a cutter, myself. When I edit, I tend to add more stuff than I cut, so I guess it's good that I have somebody like Mr. Ellenberg guiding me.

Me goin out

2009-01-03T19:40:00.004-05:00

Cindy and her sisters are getting ready in the bathroom and I am bored. So I thought you might want to see my goin out shirt. So here it is. I drew it. Because I am bored. Did I mention?

And I heard the place has karaoke.

I reeeeeeally hate to admit this. But...

2008-12-25T22:41:00.008-05:00

Let me apologize in advance: this post is gonna get a little long. And it probably won’t be very funny either, unless you care to have a laugh at my ‘once-upon-a-time’ ignorance and naiveté. If that does happen to be the case, then go right ahead and laugh, my friend. And know that I’m laughing with you.

This post tells the story of my rise to being a Writer. If, at any point, it starts to get dry or boring, let me encourage you to keep reading to the end, cuz there are a few surprises along the way.

Cindy and I were searching through some old papers the other night, and I started going through my Big Box O’ Rejection just for fun. Cuz you know how distracting old papers can be when you’re looking for obscure documents. Anyway, I found an envelope full of correspondence, all dated from 1999, from my first agent. Yes, you read that right – my current agent is not my first agent.

Her name was Debbie Fine, she ran Southeast Literary Agency, and if either of those names sounds vaguely familiar to you, then you deserve a virtual pat on the back, because it means at some point in your writing research, you've gone that extra mile . Let's just say, they should be well known.

So 1999 was the year I finished writing my first book. I’d dabbled in short stories before that, most of which sucked (as evidenced by the section of my sidebar I call ‘Obselete Fiction’), but after writing a complete novel, I was feeling pretty good. So I bought some books on how to get published, and started doing all the right and usual stuff. I was careful and committed and faithful, but you know, the Internet just wasn’t as powerful a research tool as it is now.

The only good reference I had available to me was an earlier incarnation of The Writer’s Guide to Literary Agents. In those days (I’ve gotta stop saying “in those days” – it makes me sound old) about a third of the book was dedicated to listing fee charging agents. And as near as I can figure, there aren’t quite as many of them nowadays. I think because ‘fee-charging’ has come to be synonymous with ‘incompetent’, or ‘scamming’. Point is, that wasn’t quite as clear as it is today.

In those days I thought that simply writing a book was a monumental and victorious accomplishment. In those days I figured the writing was the hard part. Surely the publishing end of things was a damn near given. Probably the most ignorant and pathetic of all my assumptions was that, in those days, I thought my writing was good.

So after like sixty or seventy rejections, I started combing through the fee chargers.

And I quickly struck gold.

Within a month, Ms. Fine had requested a full manuscript, then offered to represent me. In her initial letter, she asked for a synopsis of any other completed works I might have, then she went on in detail describing the types of marketing materials she’d need when she began the submission process. Next she informed me that unlike most agencies, they only charged a 10% commission, but that she would need $150 up front to cover copying and postage. “At Southeast, we only charge you once and that covers all expenses for the term of the contract no matter how long your book(s) are in print.”

So I signed on, eagerly (subsequently ignoring a request for a full manuscript from Pema Browne). Over the next six months, I received regular correspondence from Ms. Fine, detailing her activities on my behalf. I’d like to include some excerpts here, if y’all don’t mind, because I find them fascinating now, and I’m hoping that it might be a little bit educational for some of the un-agented writers reading my blog.

Keep in mind – my book sucked.

__________________________

Dear Ray,

I wish this could be your notice that MEGA House has offered a super advance, but it’s not. We’ve contacted Royal Fireworks Press, but they declined publication. Your work is presently being read at Orchard Boods, Bantam Books for Young Readers, Holiday House, Inc., Avon Flare Books and Chronicle Books. There are more publishers we will contact.

Don’t fret. More often than not finding a publisher takes time. Sooner or later an editor will recognize how good your work truly is. We’ll contact you as soon as we get a positive response from a publisher.

__________________________

Dear Ray,

In addition to the publishers we’ve listed I our last letter, your work has also been sent to Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers and Bain Bridge Books.

If any suggestions or critiques are made from an editor, we’ll pass along the info. We’re still waiting for an offer to be made. You’ll receive a call once we do.

__________________________

Dear Ray,

Our agreement is nearly completed and it’s time for each of us to re-evaluate our situation. I still feel as strong about [My Crappy Book] as when we first began. Your work has a lot to offer and I’d like to continue trying to get your work on the market. I’m disappointed no publisher has selected your work but there are still contacts that can be made if you are willing.

I hope you’ll consider one more attempt. I have enclosed another agreement. Sign and return one copy along with your check and I’ll proceed in my efforts.

__________________________

Normally I love the smell of coffee in the morning, but when I woke up and smelled it in February of 2000, it made me want to vomit. (upchuck, hurl, spew – but not ralph)

I’d been scammed.

This coincided, almost to the day, with finding out that the number of children I’d sired was about to double. We were about to have two new babies, the publishing industry was slimy and cruel, and with a heart full of shattered dreams, I decided to give up on writing and focus on my family.

Don’t feel bad, y’all. You know how this story ends. After a five year hiatus, I went on to write nine more books, each a little better than the last, until I finally landed a kick-ass agent, Ethan Ellenberg. Oooo… did he just finally tell us his agent’s name?

Soon, actual copies of my book will be going to actual publishers where one will eventually be accepted. Soon it will be printed on actual paper and sent to actual bookstores and put in the hands of actual readers – actual money will flow in multiple directions. What makes me so sure?

Because I’ve finally learned the difference between agent listings and actual research.

Just for the hell of it, skip commenting and go right now to Google. Do a search on Southeast Literary Agency, and then Ethan Ellenberg. I want all of my un-agented writer friends to learn from my ignorance, to not repeat my sad mistake: you cannot stop with the name and the address of any agent that claims to represent your genre. You’ve got to go directly to the agency’s websites. You’ve got to find out what they’ve published, who their clients are, if their books are self-published or available in traditional bookstores, cuz Debbie Fine listed multiple titles and authors she’d brokered deals for. But it was a toilet full of steaming lies.

Debbie Fine, of Southeast Literary Agency, was such a gifted scammer, that Writer Beware eventually awarded her the number eighteen spot on their 20 Worst Agents list.

Mr. Ellenberg, on the other hand, has an actual publishing history.

I wish I could say I was proud to have been on both ends of the spectrum.

Three blog-worthy items.

2008-12-21T14:25:00.006-05:00

(Picasa 3 rocks. Just so you know.)

Item #1: She's So Unusual.

This is Paige, my unique child. The number one reason I'm blogging today is to share with you this piece of correspondance I found sitting on our coffee table this morning. But first, a coffee table note from earlier in the week.

"Dear Santa I just want to say merry Christmas. P.S. I hope my brown stuff dog is fixed and I reall want it to look brand new. Here it is. From Paige Veen. Was I a good girl?"

The deal is, she's figured out that Santa's got a whole big workshop where he works on toys, so it only stands to reason, if the ear falls off your favorite 'stuff dog', sweet talk the man in red, and presto... free toy repairs.

And today:

Paige's handwriting: "Dear Santa can you come to my school pleas? Can you also write your anser right under these qustins pleas?"

Chantze's handwriting: "No I will not, I hate kids and school and really hate little girls that tell me to right this crap so stop asking."

I'm so proud of my son. It's exactly what I would have written if I'd found the note first.

Paige's handwriting (on back): "P.S. If I'm still coughing on Christmas can you get me cogh drops so I don't cought pleas?"

Item #2: Prescription for Ham.

Just thought I'd share this cuz it's had me chuckling for a few days now. One of the doctors I work with is super-rich, and super-busy, and super-generous, but super-busy. CRAZY busy. The man seems to like working with me and he's always sure to ask about my family, although I know he'll never remember their names. But that's okay. He makes up for it with that generousity thing I mentioned. Friday afternoon, at the end of our last surgery together, he's charting in the corner of the operating room and he's got his prescription pad out. He says, "Hey Ray, do you and your family like to eat ham?" (He's a foreigner, did I mention?) Then he's holding out a little slip of paper, "You take this to my butcher, he knows me, he will give you a nice ham."

He had honest-to-God written 'ham for Christmas' on one of his scripts. I was like, "Dude, did you just write me a prescription for meat?"

Item #3: Weather recap.

This was probably really irresponsible, but the snow was so high on my back deck, I had to grab the closest thing to demonstrate the scale of the depth. This photo probably cost me my best guitar. (The bottom edge that you can see -- that's eighteen inches up from my carpet -- crazy, no?)

Armed with only a shovel

2008-12-19T11:00:00.007-05:00

There's a road out there somewhere, and it's up to me to find it.

------------------------------

Edited to show you this:

Because I feel the subject's expression was organic to a discussion of the emotional impact of the piece.

A Very Veenie Christmas 2008

2008-12-15T08:13:00.003-05:00

Your world is about to change

2008-12-11T00:28:00.009-05:00

I feel a new story idea coming on. Whenever I fixate on something and start compulsively researching it, it turns into a story. One time it was Irish faeries, another time it was paranormal abilities, once it was angels, recently it was lucid dreaming, and now -- robots. I can't get them out of my head. They're all blinking and whirring and marching their way relentlessly through my brain, and God help me, I don't want them to stop.

Anyhow, I know it's beyond nerdy, so I won't bore you too much, but here are some of my faves. From clockwise upper left to right: Actroid (an amazingly lifelike interactive android), Mr. Asiho the bartending robot, cheeky Nao, Sony's Qrio (Youtube 'Qrio', those suckers can dance), Toyota's violin player (they've got an awesome robot band), Robosapien V2, Rovio (a fairly cheap wi-fi spy robot), and Honda's loveable little Asimo.

Assuming you took the time to read the whole list, you're probably thorougly convinced of my dorkableness now. If not, you soon will be. This thing here is actually a robotic exoskeleton that senses nueral pulses and enhances skeletal muscle movement. It's called HAL (human-assisted limb), and it's nearly ready to be marketed for the elderly and the disabled. So yeah, no more flipping the bird as you pass silver-haired drivers -- they're likely to chase your car down on foot, rip your door off, and pound your face to goo.

On a less violent subject, have y'all seen 'I-Robot' with Will Smith? It's loosely based on an old Asimov tale, but it paints a very likely picture of the not-so-distant future. In the next twenty years, robots are going to transform our society just like the automobile, and the television, and the computer, and when I say society, I mean our homes: our day-to-day lives. I mean your house. Don't believe me? Thirty-five years ago it was predicted that by the year 2000, computers would be in practically every device we use, and people laughed. Well who's laughing now, sucka? Bill Gates, that's who. (props to Bryan for borrowing his word)

Anyhow, I think that's where my story's gonna happen -- right on the cusp of the transformation.

The main character will have gotten rich by investing in robot technology and live in a replica of Obrien's tower where robotic chessman serve his every whim. But he'll have chronic hiccups.

-------------------------
THIS IS DEFINITELY ON MY CHRISTMAS LIST

Oh yeah.

Follow my butt.

2008-12-05T11:48:00.004-05:00

Sorry about the title. I just took the three most commonly used words from the following post and strung them together to synthesize a functional heading.

So did you know Blogger has figured out a way for you to follow yourself? Pretty amazing, huh? Of course I'm a little nervous having me following because I know how I think and I'm not always mentally polite. Good thing I know I'm not gay because now I don't have to worry about me looking at my butt. 'Butt' who am I kidding. Me and I both know that I don't have any butt to speak of. Maybe as I'm following myself I could call out helpful advice regarding my gluteal posture.

"Step harder with the heel, Ray, makes the cheeks squarer."

"Like this?"

"No, not like that, now your pants look like a deflated balloon."

"Like this?"

"Oh yeah... that's sexy."

"Thanks, dog."

The Anatomy of a Hiccup

2008-12-01T07:26:00.002-05:00

And I wish I had something interesting to back that up. I just thought it would be a good title. Of course, I do have hiccups -- had them since early yesterday afternoon. How fun is that? I didn't even freaking know you could have freaking hiccups that last throughout the freaking night. When I opened my eyes this morning, I was like, "Are they gone?............................urp."

So life stinks. Not sure how productive I'll be today cuz this is really, REALLY annoying. I apologize to my non-biscuit friends if this puts me behind schedule (and I apoligize doubly if 'biscuit' is a secret code-word that should not be used in public places like blogs).

And you know, I can't imagine going to work like this. "Hey, this is Ray, um.... yeah, I'm not gonna make it in today -- I have the hiccups."

Of course, for those of you who don't know, I work in surgery. I put my hands inside of people's cut-open bodies. Somehow hiccups seem like they would be in really bad form, professionally speaking. I can only imagine one worse possible occupation for a person with chronic hiccups -- bomb-defuser.

Thanks to Shorty, Vee and Hubby, who tried to help me with home remedies last night. After sticking my fingers in my nose and ears, ingesting everything from sugar to apple pucker, lying on my face and back, and drinking six or seven glasses of water, I feel like there's nothing I haven't tried. But I do appreciate the suggestions. (side note: were they just trying to get me to do a bunch of stupid things so they could laugh about me when I left?)

Still open to suggestions.

To more fully answer Elizabeth's question:

2008-11-25T08:21:00.003-05:00

I shall build this.

And these shall serve me.

(can you guess their names?)

I need you all to...

2008-11-21T11:17:00.006-05:00

Do me a favor. Everybody take a moment to go over to this guy's blog, and tell him, "Thanks for keeping Ray's mother's blood warm and stuff." His name is Chad. He's a perfusionist I work with. He ran the heart/lung bypass machine for my mother's surgery, and he's always joking about how his blog gets no traffic. So go and surprise him. Cuz it would be funny.

The only other reason I'm posting today: I've been thinking about my future. Daydreaming really, about what it's all gonna be like, you know? And in the midst of my nostalgia, I cannot help but wonder -- do you think Honda will let me dress Asimo in armor?*

*to staff my future castle

How I spent my day

2008-11-19T15:50:00.004-05:00

So here' this funny little thing... Blog Friends, meet Porcine Heart Valve... Porcine Heart Valve meet Blog Friends.

Now Blog Friends, I know that you're all decent and reasonable folk, and you would never judge someone based on appearance alone, but having said that, I realize that Mr. Heart Valve here isn't much of a looker. In fact, he sort of resembles a crude football tee wearing a dress made out of a tube sock.

Nossir... looks are not the issue at hand.

To be honest, I have, orchestrated this entire situation (the seemingly random and unexpected, i.e. 'chance', meeting) for the sole purpose of spending as much time, and using as many words, as is humanly possible, to simply say this: my mother had open-heart surgery today. And now. I languish in the waiting room while she sleeps. And I am bored. So I am typing these excessive strings of bull-pucky to amuse myself.

Whoops. Should probably mention that everything went very very smooth with the surgery. My mom's doing super. In fact, last time I was in her room, she was expressing her displeasure at sporting a breathing tube by attempting to gouge passing nurses with her toe-nails. Fortunately casualties were minimal.

For those of you who don't know, my mother is Veeflower, the woman who likes to get into my comment section and spread lies about me being some sort of saint, and thereby ruining my street cred. Another thing you may not realize is that potential purchasers of robot servants are charged according to a sliding scale. And yup, you guessed it - it's all based on street cred. So because this woman persists in saying such nice things about me all the time, I will soon be paying top dollar to staff my writer's fortress. I'll have barely enough treasure leftover to purchase the necessary stores of Guinness.

And what kind of fool builds a castle without a Guinness cellar?

One last thing: Thanks to Ms Carrie Harris, I found myself, at long last, sucked into the whole Facebook phenomena. I spent a good part of my down time here in the waiting room fiddling with the thing, seeking out new worlds and new life forms. So if you're a Facebook participant, and I haven't yet discovered you, leave your ID in the comments and I'll make you my friend. Unless you don't want to be. In which case, you might express that instead, preferably with insults and obsceneties -- so that I know how you really feel about me.

Blog re-calibration

2008-11-15T08:27:00.005-05:00

This is beside the point, but all you would-be YA writers should read this article: "read this b4 u publish"

So I went and acted all lazy yesterday, and now I'm back. I got up early, and did something I've been meaning to do for a long time - EXECUTE MY BLOGROLL.

In all actuality, I think it was Blogger's new 'Blogroll II' feature that put them out of business, but whatever the reason, Blogroll hasn't been running for well over a month. And so. It has now lost it's place of honor in the temple of Ray. I spent 'many-long-time' typing all my links, and I've even added a whole crazy slew of new ones. So go ahead - look for your name. Basically if you've ever commented on my blog, ever, you're now an official 'Friend of V'. Good for you. Now go and tell people you know me. Cuz they'll be really impressed.

Or not.

Anyhow. Now that I know who's been blogging, and who's been hiding out in secluded cabins working on their revisions, I can get caught up. With all y'all.

For those folks who're owed some literary closure (from the 'Fiersom's Brood' fiasco), go ahead and wire me an email. As always, my addy's beside my profile pic. In return, you'll get a lovely attatchment containing the whole, 'fresh-out-of-the-oven', twenty-plus page document. I came very very close to uploaded it to Writer's Cafe and including a link in this blog post, BUT... then I became frightened.

Cuz this is stuff that somebody's about to try to sell. In other words, this book has become a marketable product.

Scary, no?

And so it is done.

2008-11-14T01:55:00.006-05:00

So I've spent the last few days in this lovely little vacation house here, putting the finishing touches on the latest revision of good old 'Fiersom's Brood. Thanks Wendy. Sorry about the beer stains and the broken window.

Anyway, now I'm feeling kind of 'writed out'.

Over the past two weeks, I've ripped my entire manuscript to tattered little shreds, stitched them all back together, then smoothed out all the wrinkles, then smoothed out some more wrinkles, then smoothed out some more wrinkles. Hopefully there aren't too many wrinkles left. Have I mentioned that revision is my least favorite part of the writing process?

Yup. I feel like a wrung out sponge. And now all I want to do is lay beside the sink for a couple of days, and let all the scummy dishwater evaporate from my body.

But I do have a treat for those of you who've read the book. Remember how I ended it with the phrase, 'Which is so rude'? It was kind of my own little joke. I thought it was funny that the main character ended the book complaining about the fact that the antogonist didn't explain very much, when I, the writer, deliberately left a lot unexplained. Get it? 'Which is so rude.' It was meant to be funny, but it ended up alienating a few people, including my agent.

So now, I have a real ending. With a denoument and everything. And I think it's pretty good. I'll share it with those of you who've read the book, so that you can get the 'emotional payout' that the book was apparently lacking.

But it'll have to wait a few days.

In the meantime: sponge, sink, dishwater -- I'm gonna take it easy for a bit.

revisions

2008-11-03T11:28:00.004-05:00

This'll probably be my only update for the week - heck, maybe for the next two weeks.

Ever have one of those bad dreams where you've got something important you desperately need to do, but you just can't start it? Or you can't get to it because your body weighs a million pounds and your shoelaces are tied together? There's so much nervous anxiety, you feel like your heart is gonna hack its way out of your rib cage and run screaming into the night.

That's my life right now.

In the middle of last week, I told my agent that I could be done with this next round of revisions in two weeks. And I totally could have. But then all this stuff started happening: sick kids home from school, Dr's appointments, unexpected car repairs, unexpected house guests, and of course, the most important person in my life had to go and have a birthday in there too.

So I'm way behind.

And I'm a little stressed.

Before I disappear, though, I have to brag on my little man, Chantze. He's been saving his hard-earned money for about two months now to buy a Playstation Portable (he saved up for his own PS2 when he was eight). He's been babysitting, doing housework and yard work, plus odd jobs for his grandpa and uncle. So this last weekend, for his mother's birthday, Chantze went and spent nearly all of his money to buy her a nice purse, a necklace, and a bracelet. Sweet, no?

That meant more to her than anything I could have bought her, and I'm proud as heck.

The week in pictures

2008-10-27T07:10:00.006-04:00

There's been entirely too much talk about writing up round this here blog lately. I mean, I do have a family, too. So I thought I'd catch up on a few pictures. Last week was the twin's last dance class for the session - here they are with their instructor in the top picture (note the hottie with the camera in the mirror behind them). I have some video, too, but that will take some time to distill. Also last week, Hailie had her last football game for the season. Buc's won 48-0, thanks to the inspiration and pep-infusion of their wonderful cheerleading squad; because it's all about school spirit, no?

This past weekend was a busy one. Friday was the twin's Halloween/costume/birthday party. Twenty kids in disguises running wild throughout the house and yard, using groin shots and guerilla tactics to take down the teenagers. Add cake, ice cream, and several big bowls of candy, and it's sheer chaos. An interesting side note: Chantze got to meet Hailie's boyfriend Don for the first time. As little brothers are well-known to do, Chantze has been tormenting Hailie about her boyfriend for months: calling Don a hobo, saying he was in prison, offering Hailie quarters in order to call him. So when the two young men finally met face-to-face, I held Chantze by the arms and offered Don one free punch, which he declined. Don's a nice boy.

(I've gotta stop using the video camera for stills)

One final update: kind of a convergence between my writing and family life. My wonderful sister and mother had a congratulations get-together for me on Sunday. It was a very pleasant evening of catching up over tacos and coffee: two of my top three favortie ingestible substances (the third being Guinness). They even had a cake, gifts, and a big cardboard facsimile of the book cover for Fiersom's Brood (my working book-cover, not the actual published book cover which remains shrouded in the mists of the future). Thanks for everything, guys. It was very special, it meant a lot to me, and I'll surely remember it for the duration of my writing career.

A party

2008-10-22T00:58:00.002-04:00

We celebrated with about twenty of our closest friends.

Click here for the whole album.

(thank-you, Amanda, for the pictures)

Whuzzup?

2008-10-20T06:52:00.008-04:00

I know what you're thinking. "Oh sure, now that he's an AGENTED author, he's too good to pal around with all his old blog friends."

That's not it.

There's just nothing going on.

Nothing blog-worthy anyway. I've been 'planning' my revisions (cuz he asked me to 'think' them over), and it's a little more time-consuming than I thought it would be. Sure, I had it had it all worked out the first day - on paper even - but I want to go that extra mile. I want to impress him with my writerly diligence, my soldierly discipline, my generalized good-doobie-ing. So I've been making a detailed list of every scene in the book, labeling them with whatever purpose they supposedly serve - how they contribute to the greater whole. Since I'm such a big outlining nerd, each and every scene had a point before I ever wrote it, so I was having trouble finding any that were overtly 'unnecessary'. But what I am finding are lots of instances where I've accomplished the same thing multiple times over. So-and-so is a very aggressive character. But I don't need twelve scenes showing him beating on folks. Two's plenty.

Very enlightening technique. Y'all oughtter try it.

So I'm hoping that when I talk to my agent this week, I'll have 'my thoughts on revisions' detailed in writing (to a very nerdly degree of thorough-ness). And since his major concern was that I'd left too many mysteries unsolved, I'm also hoping to have a good draft of each of the four "revelatory plot development" scenes that need to be added.

So that's what I've been doing.

In other news, we had a big celebration last weekend. Maybe I'll have some pictures to post later this week. Secondly, I'd like to remind all the locals that the twin's big birthday/Halloween party is this Friday at 5 pm (happy eighth, girlie-girls). Thirdly, I'd like to very crypticly mention that it's been confirmed: the Veenie Babies officially have one less mouth to feed. If you know what I'm talking about, please don't blurt it out in the comments.

I wouldn't want law enforcement officials discovering the extent of my criminal negligence.

Guess what?

2008-10-13T12:36:00.002-04:00

I had an agent offer to represent me today.

I'm reluctant to use his name, considering the gory rebuke I had at Writersnet, but I will say that he's widely considered to be one of the top agents in New York, with hundreds upon hundreds of commercial fiction sales.

We spoke on the phone for about twenty-five minutes - almost exclusively about Fiersom's Brood - and he confirmed my fears that I was withholding too much of my backstory. Silly me. I thought it was okay to explain everything in the sequel. Anyway, he's friendly, knowledgeable, direct, and quite enthusiastic. And he appears to move quickly. I already have a contract in my email.

So yeah. I'm pretty excited. He was exactly the fifth agent I queried, on my second day of querying - barely a week ago.

I'm gonna go process this.

Cindy

2008-10-10T07:33:00.006-04:00

I just want everyone to know how awesome my wife is. No, I'm not trying to 'make up' for being in trouble, or anything like that. I've just been struck lately by what a great woman I have, and there is simply a shortage of ways in which to express that. Thus the blog post.

I've been working second shift now for well over a year (so I can work on my writing during the day), and in that time, she has functionally become a single parent. She works all day, then comes home, makes dinner, cleans, makes the kids do homework and chores, makes sure they get baths, takes them to their swimming and dance lessons, plods through vast amounts of laundry, manages the budget and finances, and does most of the shopping. Then she does it all again the following day. No rest. No breaks. No complaining.

And in the midst of it all, she encourages me.

She believes that what I do during the day is an investment in our future. She believes that I'll get my books published, and eventually earn enough for us to stay home together. She believes that I'm a great writer, a great father, and a great husband, and she tells me almost every day. And on top of all of everything else - she's hot as hell.

At this point, I only have one chance at rescuing her. My only hope of easing her burden, eliminating the constant, overwhelming effort that fills her days . . .

. . . is to get published.

(I love you, Cindy. I want to make your dreams come true.)

family and writing and whatnot - in that order.

2008-10-06T06:06:00.006-04:00

Hailie here had her first high-school homecoming last Friday. Ain't she purty? I'm proud as all heck of this kid, because she has crafted for herself an outstanding high-school experience. Her grades are good, she's in choir, creative writing and cheerleading, her friends all seem to have their heads screwed on straight (with one exception), and the love of her life is about as gentle and non-threatening as a high-school boy could be. That last one goes a long way to easing my nuerosis and despair.

Click here to see her myspace. She has pictures of cheerleading, pictures of the famous Mr. Don, and more of her homecoming. I also like the way she describes herself.

Fiersom's Brood update: I think my wordcount is killing me -- 115,000 . Now I'm not one of those people who're scared to cut; I believe in it with all my heart. But I'm not finding anything to take out of this book. Seriously. There's no wasteful writing, no unneccesary scenes or chapters, and no more 'needless words and phrases' (Strunk & White). I've edited it over and over, and believe it or not, it keeps getting longer. That's thanks to my beta readers. They kept wanting more clarification and explanation for the freaky plot twists. Bottom line: it's just a long story. I could deflate some scenes, do more telling and less showing, but I don't think it would net me any more than 5000 words. Still too long. Anybody else have this problem? What did you do? How long are your MS's and WIP's?

So. It might be a black mark, but there are lots of exceptions to the word count rule. Hopefully some intuitive agent will take a chance. Because guess what? I've started querying. That's right.

BOMBS AWAY!