because I placed honorable mention in the recent Query Tracker contest.

I spent all day yesterday ya-hooing, smiling, emailing people I know to gloat, posting the above link on my Facebook page, and smiling some more.

Now it’s time to get some serious work done. 🙂

Need I say that I didn’t think I’d be one of the lucky few? Whodathunk it? For real! There were only 50 spots in the contest. FIFTY! It was strictly luck that I opened my email when I did and snagged one of the coveted entries. It was also luck that I had a copy of my novel on my work computer, so I didn’t have to run home, snag the laptop and work from there.

Perhaps I shouldn’t admit this out loud, but I’m deep in the fourth edit. I know VIRTUALLY YOURS is not close to being the work of art I want it to be, but it’s getting there. Thanks to my online friends for editing and cheering me on.

Now I have to polish and prep the first chapter and construct a kick-ass query letter to accompany it, while somehow tamping down my giddiness to a reasonable level.

After all, I already know I’m not all that and a bag of potato chips. Not yet, anyway.

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Stored in my computer are five works in progress in various stages of dress. (I will call them ‘works in progress’ until one of them is printed.) Some need to be dressed up, while one in particular needs to shed almost all its clothes.

My first novel took me just over two years to write. True, I am a lackadaiscal, lazy writer with a Real World life crammed full of too many Things to Do, and in such an environment, it is difficult if not impossible to find three or more hours of uninterrupted peace and quiet. If a person wants to attach blame to anything, it’s fairly easy to do. Looking back, my biggest problem was an attachment to the work. The first book was a labor of love.

Writers can be personally attached to their work. In the creative world, what flows from minds and fingers is the birthing of your very own baby. I get that. I have witnessed writers, artists, actors and others who take themselves and their craft with seriousness. They are dismayed at bad reviews and critique.

I view writing (and any creativity) with the same outlook that I have on life: I am doing the best I can, and I won’t turn away any advice. If you are so wrapped up in your work that you believe it to be perfection, you may miss a jewel coming from a fresh pair of eyes.

My first novel was excruciatingly long. At 175K words, it might be considered an epic tome. During the first pass-through edit, I managed to eliminate 8K words just by taking out adverbs. Still, it’s not enough. The story is still good, I just need to tell it with far fewer words.

On the other hand, my current piece was completed during NaNoWriMo and topped out at just over 50K. Too short — I would prefer the finished work-in-progress to end up between 75K- 90K, the desired word count for a chick-lit romance. I know I was writing as fast as I could, with storylines and ideas stored in the brain while I pumped out the bones in thirty days. December was spent editing and adding. I am currently through the fourth edit, and still a bit shy of the target, although the story is strengthening with each pass.

Which brings us to the question of the day: Is it better to have too much or too little?

From personal experience (and I’m sure other writers will agree), I’m thinking too little is easier to bear. Performing major surgery such as the type I need to do on WIP #1 is going to be brutal. This is why I’ve been able to look at it only a few times in the last year.

I’m going to force myself to wield the knife. Soon. As soon as I finish adding to my current work. I’ll remember for the next project that less is definitely more.

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KidLit Contest

I’m feverishly working on Acorns and Oaks, and will submit my first 500 words wherever a contest may be.

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My last post found me braindead from the frenzied writing I accomplished during the 2009 NaNoWriMo. For once, I finished an entire book in thirty days. Granted, some of the chapters were woefully lacking, but NaNo is an exercise is writing as fast as you can, not in writing perfect sentences and airtight plots of the next Big Novel to make it to the New York Times bestsellers list. I am not that demented to think I could hatch a flawless work of art in thirty hurried days.

Christmas came and went without the return of adult children. In a way it was sad, but in another way, at least I didn’t feel obligated to drag the Christmas tree from the basement and decorate the house. Bah humbug reigned supreme.

With all the luscious Christmastime feasts (hey, just because the kiddies didn’t make it doesn’t mean we didn’t eat well), my resolution list was starting to look like an unscalable mountain. My first resolution was to write every day, which fell to the wayside by the fifth. (That was yesterday.) My second was to work out at least fifteen minutes a day. That one didn’t see the light of Day One. I also resolved to practice my violin more often. That also bit the dust until today. Granted, I had to take my instrument in for new strings and other adjustments and had put that off because as we all know, I am a World Class Procrastinator. I finally made it to Psarianos yesterday. Check off that chore.

Gentle readers, I did accomplish a few things in the area of writing, lest you think that I went totally overboard and morphed into a lazy slug. (I keep having this workaholic-slug slugfest in my mind. We know who wins most of the time.)

For one thing, I unleashed the NaNo novel Virtually Yours on two readers. One was a friend and the other a friend who writes. I spent a good week going over the book and fleshed out some parts and corrected others. Both readers loved it (I know, what are they going to say? They hate it?) and I took note of their edits.

Newly rewritten, I sent Virtually Yours off to yet another person for a third-party edit. I do not know this person and am prepared for an honest evaluation. She has only read the first half and so far has given it a thumbs up. I haven’t received her edits back yet.

Yesterday, I took a look at Acorns and Oaks — what there is of it — and realized it’s going to need a serious overhaul. Since it’s a companion book to Oaks and Acorns, I started it off as though the reader already knew the story. Bad idea. It had been so long since I’d worked on it that even I was lost.

So today, January 6, I am starting my resolutions anew. After the day job of getting people paid, I am retreating to my room to start anew. I am going to write no matter what, with the same frenzied abandon as I did in November, when my goal was 1,200 – 1,500 words a day or more. If I could do it then, I can do it now.

Happy New Year to me.

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First of all, for those who keep asking how to bookmark my blog, I have to admit ignorance. I have no freakin’ idea how to explain this procedure to anyone. I still don’t get Digg or any of the other nifty Internet doo-dads that track what you’re interested in. WordPress used to be easier, where if I visited a blog I liked, I could just add it to my blog roll. When they upgraded the site about a year ago, I was left without a compass. I couldn’t find that function if my life depended on it.

So, I am an Internet dummy, but I’ve never touted myself as anything but. I know enough to find what I want and to stay away from web sites I don’t want data mining me, but beyond that and email and shopping, I am a sorry excuse for a modern woman.

These days, I am totally brain dead for many reasons. First, I completed my NaNo novel and sent it out to a couple of people, both of whom liked it. That’s the good news. The bad news is that I’m so exhausted, I don’t really feel like working on the re-write. I know I must, but it’s hard to get in the mood. In the meantime, a stack of edited paper sits before me, calling my name.

Christmas and winter time in general come in next as major bummers. Both my kids will be in California for the holidays. I haven’t decorated a tree, and haven’t even taken the shiny sequined number (a tree) out of the basement yet. I haven’t done much shopping (I despise shopping in brick and mortar stores more than I hate Rachel Ray with the heat of a million suns) as I am giving hand crafted items for presents this year.

Snow is more than a hazard; it’s dangerous. People are angry and part of that is because they forgot how to drive in it. Grey skies are dull. Grey is dull, which is why I tend to shy away from the color (or lack of) as a wardrobe choice. I like purple.

Two of my houseplants look like they won’t survive until April. One is a giant angel trumpet. The other is a rosemary tree. Angel trumpets grow like weeds in San Francisco, where it is foggy and chilly much of the year. Why it won’t adapt to my dining room is a serious question. The rosemary comes inside right at first frost, where subsequent new growth comes out spindly and weak. No amount of grow light wattage seems to help. By the time spring rolls around, I’m nursing it along on its impending deathbed, waiting for warm weather so I can take it outside.

I believe I have ADD, which would explain my daughter having the same thing. It would also explain my life. Do I ever finish anything? Do I ever stop going from one tangent to another?

So yes, today I’m brain dead. Totally.

I think I need a certain little kitty to kick me square in the backside.

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Last month, I participated in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) for the third year in a row. The premise is easy to understand; NaNo-ers are to complete 50,000 words in the thirty days of November. Each author wannabe has a page, where one can post their profile, synopsis of the work in progress, sample writing and even dream cover designs. There are forums discussing a myriad of writing topics and cheering email sent weekly. A handy graph reveals your progress and that of your writing buddies.

Writing a novel is not as easy as one may think. My first year of NaNo went poorly. I don’t think I wrote a thousand words, much less fifty thousand. My failure was in part because of “real” life. Not many of us are professional writers able to devote entire workdays to writing. Most of us have day jobs, families and other commitments digging into our writing time.

I often refer to my writing life as a clandestine tryst between me and my other love, Writing. If I find two hours of solitary silence where I can concentrate on writing, it’s a rare thing indeed. Writing involves a certain amount of guilt, especially if a week’s worth of dirty laundry is staring at you from across the room.

My other huge problem is that I’m a lazy writer and easily distracted. Writers inhabit a solitary work existence. They need to be self-starters. There is no one on the workroom floor to glare at you and yell you into production. Your only supervisor is YOU. Even going online to ask writing friends a question is dangerous for me, as I tend to wander off to other web sites and other tangents. Successful writers need a certain amount of dedication to the craft. Books don’t write themselves.

This is the brilliance of NaNoWriMo. It’s the online representation of a writer’s cattle prod.

Some participants wrongly think that the great American novel will miraculously spring from the computers of one of the thousands that use the web site as a tracking tool. Actually, NaNoWriMo is only a tool, meant to instill good writing habits. The intention is not to complete a novel in thirty days, but to get as many words down as you can in thirty days.

There is no time for editing, for thinking of the back story or for looking for grammatical errors. The idea is to plunge in and don’t look back until December 1.

That’s not to say that having a plan isn’t helpful. With my first year attempt woeful at best, I used Year Two to jumpstart the work I started a year and a half before. That work in progress started out as a stream of consciousness piece with no plan. After eighteen months of aimless meanderings, I had been stalled at Chapter 13 and hadn’t gotten to the halfway mark.

This year, I came prepared. I had a premise, I had characters with names and locations, and I knew what was going to happen and how it was going to end. I arranged my work to have thirty chapters, to coincide with the number of days in NaNo. I used to be a fly by the seat of your pants kind of writer letting my characters show me the way. I can now see where having an outline or sketch of the novel is necessary to success.

Since that Real Life thing is a constant, budgeting time wisely is of utmost importance. There were only two days in November when I couldn’t write, and one of those was Thanksgiving. I knew in advance and adjusted my writing schedule accordingly. Even with the two days off, I reached the 50K goal on November 29 and finished the novel on December 1.

My book has flaws and some gaping holes but only because I was writing as fast as I could. After letting the piece ferment for a week or two, rewrites will come next.

I hope to continue using my newfound writing schedule, but knowing my history, I’m sure I’ll return to slacker writing soon enough. Still, I would recommend NaNoWriMo to any aspiring novelist. It’s not perfect, but at least it will get the words out, and that’s the first step.

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I’m sometimes asked by fellow aspiring-to-be-published novelists how I can write so prolifically. I make it a point to write something every day. Sometimes it’s work on my novel, sometimes it’s a well-crafted and pointed business letter or a scorching missive to my state representative, and sometimes it’s just the blog. My friends question where I get my ideas at all and once I’ve corralled them into one general area, how can I possibly get them heading into the same direction. Do I have a Muse?

The answer is short and sweet: There is NO such thing as a Muse.

Getting anything accomplished, including the task of writing, takes blood, sweat, tears and more tears. If you’re the type who is waiting for inspiration from some diaphanous illumination that will lead you by the hand into your creative heart, you’ve got another thing coming.

In my earlier incarnation, I used to believe in the power of the Muse. It’s true that I’m my most creative when my life is full of conflict and drama. I wrote my best poetry when in the throes of freshly minted love affairs, the last being about twenty-five years ago just after I met my husband. The day-dreamy existence is a fine one for word crafting of any type.

However, the altered state doesn’t work for everything. Serious writers have to adhere to a schedule. I know this because I waffle in that netherworld between writing for fun and the alternative. It’s a great hobby to bandy about words and be the cause of conversations – it’s the birth of your baby. The re-writes, corrections and critiques are infinitely more difficult but part of the total equation – that is called whipping your child into shape.

I am an admittedly lazy writer. There are the rare times when I’m on fire, but truthfully speaking, I can initiate more ways of procrastination than anyone I know.

In order to get anything done, I had to kick the idea of my Muse to the curb and join the ranks of the real, working world.

Here are a few tips from a person still struggling with time management issues:

  1. Set up a daily time for writing. For novel writing, I need at least two hours of quiet time, and the best time for me is between 2 and 5 p.m. Early in the morning doesn’t work for me; neither do late nights.
  2. Set up a daily minimum word amount. It can be as little as twelve sentences a day. For others, it can be a word total. (Mine is usually 1,000 words or more.)
  3. Surround yourself with other writers. If you can’t find a local writing group, there are plenty online. Only with reassurance from others in your same situation will you be able to overcome the hurdles.
  4. Even if you don’t feel like writing, JUST WRITE. It doesn’t have to be polished and worthy of the Pulitzer. Jot down your most mundane thoughts while standing in line at the grocery store. My new thing is to write down catchy names or phrases in my notebook so I don’t forget them later.
  5. Tell yourself you can, and you will. Mindsets can be changed, but only you can change your own.

Finally, remember that writing is hard work, not unlike digging up your yard (by hand) to replace it with a vegetable garden. Don’t rely on something as fleeting as a Muse to get it done. It may seem daunting, but writing well is not an unattainable goal.

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