Beautiful Weather, Mundane Days...

Today was one of those sort-of-nothing days where not much of any significance happened at all. I was woken early to the wonderful sound of Dog Whisperer’s Beasts barking themselves into a frenzy very close to my bedroom window. They like to stand at the gate and bark. My window is probably six feet from the gate. Thus, when they bark and I’m trying to sleep, it’s frustrating. Even Rory had a good moan about it. My pups used to sit upright when they’d hear the yapping. Now, like me, they grumble and try to shut it out so we can sleep longer. I find that amusing.

When we did finally get up, it was to a day at work that was busy but not terribly productive, if that makes sense. I’m trying hard to fill jobs but the ones we have are the hard ones that no one in Cincinnati has been able to fill. I did manage to get two interviews set up for candidates but since it’s for the same job, it really only counts as one since only one of them can get the job.

I also did lose a candidate who my account manager and I have been working very hard to make happy. He got an offer from our client which was a very good offer. Unfortunately, he had another job offer- ironically from my old company- for a lot less money.

For some reason, he decided to reject our offer and take the one with my old company. I’m sure something about it appealed more but, well, I can’t help but think he’s making a bit of a mistake. It’s not just about the money. When we met with him, he told us he was looking for a position where he could move up, learn new technologies and rise in his career. I don’t think that’s possible at my old company, honestly.

Still, it’s his choice. I didn’t tell him that in my soon-to-be-published novel, Emmy goes to Hell, there’s a whole level of Hell dedicated to my old job. Maybe I should have done. Still, he made his choice and as frustrating as it is, there’s nothing I can do about it.

Aside from that, my day was rather dull. I had another candidate come in who’s been out of work for a while. He actually lives in my neighbourhood and the dogs and I walk by his house on our sojourns fairly regularly. He was very nice but a little odd. Still, at the very least, it was nice to meet another neighbour.

All-in-all, it wasn’t the most exciting day on the planet. My boss is out of the office. This, of course, means that Mr. Lazy Account Manager in our office left at 1 p.m. Today, he had a stomach ache. Last week, he left each day by 3 p.m. One day, he had to pick up his kids, another day, one was sick, another day, he had to go help his wife, another day, he had a meeting. He’s very good with excuses. He only does it when my boss isn’t around. Also, since he tells our administrator his reason for leaving, it’s oddly different from what he tells the rest of us. While I think it’s nice to get out of the office early once in a while, he’s got to the point where everyone knows he’s just not doing any work. Well, everyone except my boss and I have a feeling that, thanks to my endearingly interfering coworker, he’ll know very soon.

Fortunately, it’s a beautiful day outdoors which redeems the somewhat dull indoor day. On days like this where it’s in the mid 70 degree range, my favourite thing to do is sit outside and either read or, as I’m currently doing, edit the proof copy of Emmy Goes To Hell. I got it back from the publisher last week and while I like the cover, there was still quite a lot of edits to make inside. It’s nice to sit outside with a cold drink, my book and my pen. Usually, I have a Sookie trying to sit on my lap which not only makes it a little hard to edit but, also, makes her sister rather jealous and having two dogs on my lap is just downright uncomfortable. I don’t have that much lap.

The trouble with the evenings is that they go so fast. By the time I get home, walk the pups and make dinner, the evening is waning away. I probably could cut down on the time I spend making dinner but where’s the fun in that?

On the plus side, after a slightly dull day at work, it’s a sheer pleasure to sit outside and relax with the pups milling around my feet. Except for the barks of the Beasts next door, it’s a peaceful thing to do. While I still hate their incessant yapping, I’ve got to the point where I can literally ignore it when I’m outside. It’s all I can do.

Besides, it’s an even nicer pleasure when they finally go inside and, suddenly, there’s a blissful silence.

That makes it almost worthwhile.

Happy Wednesday!

Life Gets in the Way Sometimes....

Today is one of those days where I have no clue what to blog about. Life has been so stressful lately that it's hard to step back and realize that now that I know I have a job, I can relax. It's never easy to command yourself to relax, though. There's always something to worry you.

For me, it's my writing. I haven't written anything new in a while. I've been editing for the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award (ABNA). That was pretty fun but once I was done, I was done. I've been lurking on the boards and there are some people out there who are nuts about editing. Even after they'd submitted their entry, they were tweaking until the final deadline. Some people even want to know if the contest administrator's can open up the process again once finalists have been selected so they can tweak a little.

Personally, I have a bit of an issue with this. I know the contest is for new writers, unpublished writers, writers who haven't had luck with traditional routes of publishing. I know that the desire to have a perfect novel is driving, it's demanding, it can obsess you. No novel will ever be perfect though some have come close. I know the need to edit can be strong. Yet, at some point, you have to stop. Like any other submission whether it be to agent, publisher or magazine, you're supposed to submit your best effort. You don't submit to a magazine and say, "oh, hey, I rewrote this section of my story, I'd like to submit it again, please", do you? Well, maybe you do but you shouldn't be doing that because chances are the editor will say "why did you bother submitting in the first place if it wasn't your best effort?" and they'll reject you.

I understand that some writers discovered ABNA later and had to quickly submit their manuscripts. That was me last year. I had a week to register, edit and upload. It was a tight deadline but it was the most fun periods of my writing life. Having a deadline is awesome in a way. It makes you feel like a real writer, someone who has to get their work done no matter what and if you don't, you lose out. However, once I was done editing, I was done. My novel probably needed more editing but I had done the best I could. I was proud to submit it. Granted, my experience last year wasn't stellar as I documented here, but I learned and, for a brief time, had some hope.

So I get it. I get why writers can't leave their books alone and can't stop editing but there comes a point when you have to. For me, I've learned that I can't edit when I finish a novel. I have to put it away for a long time, from six months to a year, and then edit. It's easier then. I find the errors, I find the clunky passages, I find the extraneous pop-culture references that would easily date my story and so I take them out. Yet on a cold and heartless note, I can't help but want to say to those constant tweakers and rewriters on the ABNA message boards, if you weren't happy with it, why did you submit it?

Then I have regret at being so mean. After all, not everyone is the same. For me, I can't submit anything I don't fully believe in. I can't submit something that doesn't feel like it's ready. If I did, I'd basically feel like I was throwing my lot in just for the heck of it. You know, there's nothing wrong with that. It's not a bad option. Yet if that was the option I chose, I'd also try to keep the mindset that whatever happens, happens and if I don't get anywhere then maybe I should have spent more time on the manuscript/story before I threw it out there.

The contest is proving to be an interesting experience, even when I'm just lurking on the message boards. Once again, the forums have been hijacked by the same few people. The people are funny and they have a rapport with each other but it does make it a little intimidating to jump in sometimes. Yet it's still fun to learn about the entrants. They range from complete beginners who shyly post questions on the boards to the more professional writers who can share their stories about bad agents and publishing feats. Last year's winner, Bill Loehfelm is even showing up on the board, always dispensing smart, seasoned advice.

It's fun to read what people have to say. I like to read the advice they give, especially from the writers who have had success. This year, I'm bound and determined not to be mean and snarky. Last year, I read some of the pitches and wondered who on earth would read that book. Then I realized after I got booted out that people probably said that about my pitch. This year, I'm taking everything and trying to learn, to see what I could do better and learn from other writers. That's not easy for me. I don't like to play well with others as I've said before. However, those others have had more success than me, thus they have to be doing something right.

Now I'm done editing, it's a waiting game again. I'm waiting to see if I get booted out again or if maybe, just maybe, my pitch is actually strong enough this year.

In the meantime, I want to write yet...I can't. I've sent out queries and am waiting on those. I made a deal to myself that I wouldn't write another novel until I'd tried hard to sell the ones I have. Yet I haven't. I'm getting nothing back from my queries. I don't know why. I feel paralyzed. Part of me wonders what the point of writing another novel or story is and the other part want to get lost in a new work.

Yet I can't. Not at the moment. And I don't know why. I have ideas but nothing seems worth spending the time on. I should just write through it like I have in the past, push through the block. I've never truly believed in writer's block because there are tricks to getting through it. The block I have right now is my own making. I've let the stress of life get in the way and now it's fixed fast in my path. I need to find a way to ignore it and then the block will go away.

It'll pass. Eventually. In the meantime....I'll just keep waiting, trying and hoping. Wish me luck with that.

Happy Tuesday.

The Joys of Literary Schizophrenia

I've discovered it's impossible to plan these blogs. I've tried. Some days I have every intention of having a rant and then I get sidetracked and I end up waffling about something completely unrelated.

I have a feeling today will be one of those days. It's a Monday again. It's a rainy, windy Monday morning. It reminds me of England when the weather is like this. The sidewalks are shiny with puddles, the wind tosses the fallen leaves which stick to everything with the dampness. The wind manages to blow the rain so no matter whether you have a hood or an umbrella, there's no fighting the rain and you end up wet. As is always the case on Mondays, I didn't want to get up. I wanted to lie longer, listening to the howl of the wind outside. Yet, as is also always the case on Mondays, I knew I couldn't.

I take pleasure in the fact that this my last week of work before the holidays. That, alone, made it easier to emerge from my covers and get out of bed. This week is actually already better. I have 95% of my shopping done. I giftwrapped last night. My Christmas cards are mailed. And, writing wise, I think I'm back on track.

Now I'm pulling out of my mini-funk, writing is easier. I'm editing the first novel I ever wrote at the moment. I'm intending to try, once more, to throw my lot into the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest this year with this novel. I know a lot of writers hate to edit but I have to say, I actually enjoy it as long as I don't do it immediately after I write a novel. I tend to work on other projects for a while and then, when I'm ready, I go back to the novel and edit. I love doing that; it's a luxury to have already created that fictional world I'm reentering and just being able to look around, listen to the characters whose story I'm telling and see if it still fits. It's like getting to hang out with old friends again.

That's what's happening at the moment. I love my first novel, Rainlight. That's just an opinion, not an expression of arrogance. It's a novel about three teenage boys who all have their own issues to deal with. One of them, David, is hearing strange voices, mysterious whispers that he doesn't understand. His brother, John, is just trying to survive under the tyrannical thumb of his religiously zealous father. John's best friend Michael, has been diagnosed as bi-polar. The three of them are just trying to survive, to seem normal although normalcy keeps eluding them. It's a strange novel but it's not really mine; it belongs to David, John and Michael. They're just nice enough to let me tell their story. And I'm not nice back which is a little unfair. I'm not good at telling stories with puppys, rainbows and sparkles. Their story is funny, poignant and, at moments, heartbreaking. You'll hate me at the end if you ever read it but it's only the first novel in a series of five and in order for the larger story to be told, sacrifices had to be made.

So I'm revisiting that novel at the moment. I still love it but since I wrote it, I've written seven more and lots of short stories. My writing is better now, more fluid. I'm not trying to be Stephen King or Neil Gaiman anymore; I've figured out who I am as a writer. I've a thousand influences but, in the end, it's my writing that has to shine. Editing Rainlight after writing so much other stuff feels like a treat. I've mentioned before how I don't think I'd be a good fit in a writing program. The truth is though I think there are things I can gain from them, ultimately, the goal of a writing program is to make me into a better writer and if writing eight novels hasn't done that, no writing program will.

But writing those other novels has done that. It was hard to write Revelation, the last book in my series about John, David and Michael. It meant I had to leave those characters and move on. Yet they never really left me, they lie low, waiting until it's their turn again. In the meantime, I've 'found' other characters: Jimmy DeLeon, a modern day Joab from the Old Testament, trying to be a loyal soldier for his boss, Ethan, the modern day King David. Briar Richards, whose love for her skater boy threatens to destroy the fragile connection to life to which she clings. And then there's Ryder, Bastian, Foster and Gaz, my Sleepers. Some of them are dead, some of them are not but they all have ties to Sleep, a place where a few chosen go when they die in hopes to find meaning and redemption from their troubled lives.

I don't know which characters will find me next though I have a suspicion that Gaz, from my novel Sleep, will not be appeased. He's the type who knows how to get his own story; no matter how quiet my other voices, Gaz is willing to pipe in and let me know he's waiting.

You probably think I'm crazy. I probably am. Though a friend who is also a writer told me that she, too, hears the voices and she calls it her literary schitzophrenia. I love that term. It's so accurate and true. When I hear my voices, my heart leaps, just a little. No matter how dark life can get, those voices sometimes get me through. They let me follow them into their world for a while and they let me sketch it with words. It's a haven and I love it.

I've only edited Rainlight for one night and already I feel different. I feel like there's a piece of me missing when I'm not writing or talking to my characters. That piece of me is back and it feels right. While I'm editing, I'm still submitting, still trying to find that one agent or publisher who really does want to take a chance on a new writer. Somehow the rejections are a little less painful when I'm content with writing or editing because I remember again why I write in the first place.

I can't wait to get back to editing tonight. It makes getting through the workday easier. It makes the numbing dullness of my day job tolerable because my night job is waiting.

Happy Monday.