Terescia's thoughts and such.

I’ve been thinking about the choices I’ve made as a writer. My first attempt at fiction revolved around glitz and glamour, which wasn’t such a big surprise, since I started out reading my mother’s Barbara Taylor Bradford and Sidney Sheldon books. Before long, I was reading V.C. Andrews, Sally Beauman, and Dean Koontz. With Koontz, I found happiness and I was a huge fan for many years. Then I started reading category romance and I was hooked on love.

One of the reasons I’ve always liked Koontz is his ability to write into his books a very genuine affection between his lead characters. He often writes romance into his stories and for that I’ve always been grateful.

Somewhere in here, I read a lot of fantasy and science-fiction, but no particular author stands out, with the exception of C.J. Cherryh.

I read tons of historical–historical novels and historical romances–and I can remember a few Jayne Taylor books and more than a few books set during and after World War II. But the author who stands out the most, the author who became my absolute favorite historical writer of all time was Johanna Lindsey.

About the time high-school ended, I was reading more romance than anything else.

But I didn’t automatically start writing romance. My next story was a romantic thriller. And the one after that was too. And then I finally decided I should get serious and I started major revisions of that last book and made it a died-in-the-wool romance.

These days though, I’ve been getting restless. My reading has tapered off, and romance isn’t as engrossing as it used to be. Despite this, I still prefer to write books with a strong focus on the hero and heroine’s relationship, and the thought of writing something without romance in it at all makes me not want to write at all. So I think it’s clear, my problem isn’t with romance, it’s with reading.

I don’t want to read the way I used to. I could lose myself in a book only a few years ago, but today, I feel like reading is a struggle. I find myself wanting to say it’s just a phase I’m going through, which might be true, but how stupid does that sound? Just going through a phase… What is this, a pre-mid-life crisis or something?

How could I go from totally loving to read, from spending every spare moment I have reading, to barely reading at all? To not even wanting to read?

I want to know the answer to that question, but it’s not here. I don’t know.

I’m going to have to stop thinking of my books as romances and realize they’re just books. Books I want to read, after I finish writing them. I’ve strangled myself with the conventions of a genre I don’t feel like I even know any longer. I’ve let rules lead me astray.

I’ve given in to the need to write the perfect romance, when I should be concentrating on writing the best novel I can write.

I am not a romance writer. I’m a writer who writes romance novels. I have so many ideas, so many stories, and to limit myself to only one genre of fiction seems like the easy way out. Learn one thing and learn to do it well.

How boring.

Why not learn many things, and learn to do them all well?

For those people who believe you have to force yourself to work through just about anything: It’s easy to understand your own processes but almost impossible to understand another’s. Even I find myself thinking a friend’s method can’t be right, can’t be the best way, because I know my way is best. Only the truth is, my way is best for me, and maybe not even that. My way is best for me sometimes, and my other ways are best for me at other times.

Today, I can’t concentrate on working, because I’ve had some bad news about my grandfather. It’s not the worst possible news, but it could be at any time, and that keeps my mind from settling on anything long enough to focus. And without focus, I’m not worth much.

My ability (my need) to focus on one thing to the exclusion of all else is my greatest strength (and my most damning weakness) as a writer. Because if the thing I’m focused on is not my writing for the day, then my writing isn’t going to get done.

I’ve tried to change my ways, for too long. There’s a point you reach when you have to stop working against your natural tendencies and starting working with them. I think I’ve reached that point. But I’ve also noticed that it’s just as hard to set up a method based on something you know and feel but can’t quite understand as it is to set up a method you think should work but never does.

Tell me to sit in my chair and write and I’ll ignore you. I’ve learned my lessons about writing, and for me, if I force myself to write when I can’t, I hate writing. I hate it with enough passion to avoid it as long as possible. And then I write, and I realize how much I love to write. How much I depend on it to keep me balanced.

I’ve spent nearly three weeks writing a synopsis, and I’m tired. I haven’t polished it; I haven’t revised. I’m not finished, but by tonight I will be.

Sometimes, there are no great epiphanies. A character changes in lots of small, seemingly insubstantial ways that accumulate over the course of a story to make the ending possible. He (She) would or wouldn’t have reacted a certain way in the beginning, but by the end everything is in place.

How does one show this in a five page synopsis that’s meant to cover all the high points of a story, tell all the bits that matter, and still have room for everything else? Huh?

I’ve read so many articles and listened to so many tapes on how to write a selling synopsis that I was sick of the whole process months before I ever sat down to write this one. Maybe I know too much now, but I don’t remember my synopsis for my last book being this excruciating to write.

I’ll finish this tonight, even if it’s with the attitude to just get the thing written. No excuses. No compromise.

And no deletion upon completion allowed. ;-)

I’m feeling bittersweet this week, now that I’ve made it past conference and coped with illness. I became sick Thursday night before last and still managed to make it to Knoxville for the SMRW Mt. Laurel Conference. I was sick the entire time I was there, and for three days afterwards, but I’m mostly back to normal now. :-)

Conference was good to me–I had multiple requests for my manuscript (completed just before conference, and probably the reason behind the bittersweet feeling plaguing me)–but I find it difficult to be particularly happy about the requests. I’ve heard too many stories where people say, “Oh, they’ll ask for anything at a conference.” Considering how badly I flubbed up one of my pitches (and the fact that, yes, the agent still asked for a partial) I’m of a mind to believe it.

The thing is, I’m nervous around people I don’t know well (very, very well). I can’t do small talk and I tried, and I think that’s where I went wrong. Once I’d lost my grip on my thoughts, I never got it back. However, this particular agent was nice about it, and I came away feeling not-quite-humiliated. ;-)

Anyway, I haven’t pushed myself to get my stuff out. I figure two/three weeks is good. Since the book is so freshly finished, I feel the time to go over things and tweak is well spent. My worst nightmare is to send something out in a rush and ruin my chances with someone because of an easily avoidable oversight.

I’m feeling lazy, and I don’t particularly want to rush this time anyway. I don’t know. Maybe it’s conference hangover. ;-)

As I’ve said before, some days are slow days, and there’s no getting around that fact. But lucky for me, some days aren’t. Over the past few days, I’ve been writing through my fingers. Every time I walk by my computer, I have to take a moment to sit down and write, even when I don’t really have time for it.

It’s led me to wonder what kinds of things can trigger a spell like that. For me, it was getting back on the bike after a few weeks off–literally. I ride a bike for my daily exercise and I’d let myself slack off. Going back to my nightly routine seems to have helped a lot. So, for those of you reading this who might not believe it, exercise really does make a difference. Not only do I feel less tired (and that’s after just three days back on the bike), I feel–no, I AM–more productive. I’ve doubled my daily writing production, and that will always be worth thirty minutes of my time.

As a side note here, I’ve noticed this phenomenon in the past, and told myself never again would I skip my exercise. It’s easier said than done, however, and I’ve fallen out of my energy-boosting exercise habit more than once over the past two (or three?) years.

I always tell myself it won’t happen again, yet invariably it does. So maybe this time, by choosing to write it down, I’ll have the strength to stick with it.

Looking for software to stop spyware and adware? Think you’ll finally be safe if you switch from Internet Explorer to Mozilla Firebird?

Here’s an interesting tidbit I discovered quite by accident this morning.

Mozilla Firebird isn’t necessarily safer than Internet Explorer… In fact, until today, while using Firefox, I’d never had a piece of software take over my computer or insert itself into my browser without my permission. (I use AdAware and SpyBot on a regular basis, so I know.)

Anyway, did a google search this morning and followed a link to a perfectly reputable looking site, and as I was watching (now that’s bold!) my google search icon was replaced by some freaky little CC in a circle and suddenly my search shows up at some search engine I’ve never heard of before.

Well, suffice to say, I took care of that little problem ASAP, but it made me realize something couldn’t be set up in my browser correctly for such a thing to happen.

Lesson learned: No browser is safe if you don’t have those download properties set up correctly.

Owwie.

Writing seems to hold more slow days than fast for me. I don’t write in “flow” and I don’t write sequentially either, most of the time. For me, those “getting lost in the moment” moments happen few and far between. Yet, somehow, most days I do write something, and on some days I’ve been known to write ten to twelve pages of manuscript. Most often, it’s early in the process, when the book is still new and I haven’t figured it all out yet.

In fact, once I figure it all out, I’m sure to slow down, and by the time I’m within scenes of the end, I’m at a crawl. That’s where I’m at right now. The book is done as far as my mind is concerned, so why spend all this time getting out on paper what I already know happens?

Of course, when writing a book with the goal of publishing that book, getting it down on paper is the most important part of the process. :-)

I have high expectations for today, but I’m having a tough time getting started. So, I thought I’d put up my goals for the world to see (or my mom, if that’s the only person I can finagle into reading this thing! :). Considering the humilation I’ll suffer if my hubby sees this, maybe I’ll be more apt to reach them.

10 pages.

Since I compose reading material about as fast as I can calculate pI, this is a hefty goal. It’s 8:17 am by my clock. I’ll check back in when I’ve reached my goal–or 7pm, whichever comes sooner.

Maybe by then I’ll have something enlightening to say.

:-)

Okay, I just read my last post, and thank goodness I didn’t say anything too embarrassing. ;-)

Today, I had the commute, and instead of letting myself drive comatose, I plotted. It’s interesting the kinds of things a person can come up with in an hour, but I am trying to remember Elmore Leonard’s words, paraphrasing here: I try to leave out the parts people skip.

Leave out the boring parts, in other words. It makes for a much tighter story. :-)

Something I read in Lawrence Block’s Telling Lies for Fun & Profit has stuck with me this last week. “Submit relentlessly” he says. It kinda makes me feel guilty that I only submitted my last book to about 4 people before I set it aside. It was necessary though, because I discovered a major problem with the beginning that I must fix before I send it out again–and yes, I will send it out again!

But there’s the whole wanting to finish my current project before I go back to the previous. Unfortunately, the current project is taking much longer than I’d planned!

I’ve recently made some resolutions and I feel good about them. Change is difficult, much more difficult in real life than in fiction, I believe. But I intend to take this seriously, and we’ll see how I’m doing in a few weeks.

I’m supposed to be writing, otherwise there’s no point for me to still be awake. There’s a warm bed and a warm body waiting for me on the other side of the closed door a few feet to my right. My punishment for ignoring it is the cold twisting through my body. My fingers keep skipping across the wrong keys and I have to backtrack to get the words right, but 12:22 doesn’t seem so late really. I remember when it was nothing to stay up until 3 am reading a good book or writing. Those days are probably gone forever now that I have kids who think 6 am is late.

I’ve been listening to music with my headphones while I work, but I’m not writing. Sometimes the words just won’t come. And sometimes the words are there, but I find ways to stave them off. I often wonder if this means I don’t really want to spend my life writing stories I can’t be sure anyone will ever read.

Only my critique partner sees them, but I’ve kept this latest story close. She’s seen only a few chapters here and there.

I’m supposed to be heading downhill. I’m past the 3/4 mark, and I’ve finally concluded there’s no such thing as going downhill when it comes to writing.

From the first word to the last, it’s like pulling my own fingernails out. And yet… I can’t imagine my life if I were to stop. Even if someday I gave up the quest for publication, I would write something. For such a terrible, torturous thing, writing gives me some of my favorite moments.

There’s nothing like laughing out loud as I read something I wrote. And when I cry as I type, I know it means something. My writing is better for it, even if my computer isn’t.

I’ve never actually spit anything out on my keyboard while reading my own material, but I’ve often wondered if that rush of joy wouldn’t be worth it. I hesitate to say a laugh could ever be worth $1,282 but part of me wants to say just that.

I really think I need to find a new CD.

Although, getting some sleep might be the better answer.

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