Conversations with the Muse

I'm trying to con my muse into helping me work on Secrets of Skin and Stone. Thus far, it's not going as well as I might like.

Wendy: (dangles Mountain Dew in front of muse.) C'mon.... it'll be fun. Sarah said it will be fun.

Muse: (raises eyebrows) Really? That's what you're going with? Mountain Dew?

Wendy: (sighs) We've got to do it. You know we do.

Muse: We already wrote this book. (points at other WIPs) We haven't written those. We should work on those.

Wendy: (snaps in front of muse's face) Hey! Focus.... focus. Ignore the shiny.

Muse: (rolls eyes) Okay... what else do you have?

Wendy: Uhh danger music?

Muse: Danger music?

Wendy: Yeah... you know the music that plays during movie trailers and during actions scenes? I though maybe we could hum it while we work on the chapter summary. I thought maybe if we pictured the book as a series of flashing action scenes and then filled in the blanks....

Muse: That's what you're bringing to the table? Mountain Dew and danger music?

Wendy: Possibly sex. We might be able to con the husband into sex tonight if we finish this chapter summary.

Muse: Dude, that's all you... otherwise it's creepy... it's like a threesome.

Wendy: Yeah, I suppose. I was hoping... the endorphins...?

Muse: I do like endorphins.

Wendy: We don't have to tell him.

Muse: There is that.

Wendy: Plus, danger music and Mountain Dew. (eyes house) I should probably clean, though. Possibly do some laundry.

Muse: Okay, you do that... and bring the danger music and Mountain Dew and we'll see what happens.

Wendy: Hopefully some very dark things. BAWAHAHAHA!

Muse: Don't do that.

Wendy: What?

Muse: The laugh. Don't do the laugh.

Wendy: (rolls eyes) Fine. (Starts humming)

Muse: That's the Last of the Mohicans theme. What the hell kind of book do you think we're writing?

Wendy: Uhh....

Muse: (rolls eyes) Go with something from Terminator or maybe Transformers.

Wendy: Fine.

Muse: Fine.

Wendy: Pass the Mountain Dew.

Muse: (passes) You finish off that diet crap. I don't run on diet crap.

Wendy: Oh for the love of....!

Muse: Don't profane.

Wendy: (smiles)

Danger Music:

Putting on the Plotting Pants Post

*snickers* If you didn't notice the alliteration in that title... and giggle... I can't help you. *washes hands of you*

So, a while back, Sarah conned me into doing something that might just rewrite all my rules. Seriously. She asked me for a plot summary for a book I hadn't written. A BOOK... I HADN'T written. Naturally, my brain exploded, my world shrunk, and somewhere a fairy died, but I decided to give it a shot. What I came up with... was not at all pretty. I couldn't write a book summary. I could write a chapter-by-chapter summary, but not a book summary. I sent it off, with my apologies for its Frankenstein presentation, and Sarah was good with it... and didn't hunt me down and shake it in my face while shouting, "What the crap is this?" (I sometimes have paranoid and implausible fantasies about what might happen in a worst case scenario.) That was then... and I immediately turned around and did heavy revisions on two books right after, but the fact that I could summarize a book I hadn't written... hung with me... and it got into my brain.

Now, I'm trying to work on Sentinel's Run. (Sarah is distracted with other projects temporarily, so I'm working feverishly while she is.) It's been a year since I worked on Sentinel's Run. It fell casualty to other projects taking precedence and it's gone mostly untouched for a year now. I started it last June, wrote 25K, received a request from Sarah for a full and then copies of my other stuff... and then buried myself in other projects.

Ideally, I want to finish Sentinel's Run while still working on other revisions if requested. Moving from a YA paranormal to a Dystopian sounds like a nightmare, though. So, I decided to try a chapter-by-chapter plot summary. I've been working on that this week and I did it... I actually plotted out the remainder of the book. I can't believe I can do that. Then, yesterday, using my chapter summary, I added a full chapter to Sentinel's Run. I created a cheat sheet for voice while I was creating the summary, so I'm all plotty-plot-plotterton this time even.

In some ways, it's still pantsing because I can only write as far as the next chapter... and then the next chapter. It turns out looking like a fairly boring short story. I can't summarize the whole book--my mind doesn't work that way. I can build on each chapter, though.

So, how does this change all the rules?

I know this won't be the same book I would have written without the plot summary. My mind rambles down random paths in novels much like I do in these blog posts. With the plot summary in place, I won't do that. I really think this might tighten up my writing in a way I'm not managing in revisions. I'm wondering if I should do chapter summaries on some books after the fact... I'm thinking, seriously, that I might force myself to do this for all my books in the future... though possibly not until after the first few chapters are written.

For the record, I hated writing the chapter summaries. I let myself have a cupcake after I was finished and patted myself on the head and said, "You did it, Wendy! You're not a hack." It was seriously pulling teeth and my muse kept screaming, "We don't write this way! This sucks! I hate you! I'm going to go stick a dead rat on your pillow!"

So, when I finished writing the chapter last night... my first shiny new chapter on this WIP in a year... I wanted to find someone and shake them and shout, "I did it! I can plot! I can use a plotted out summary! I'm not a hack." Sadly, it was one a.m. and I was insane for still being awake, but it's the thought that counts.

Anyway, so my posts over the next few weeks will probably be all about Sentinel's Run and how much I love it and how I want to hug it and squeeze it and call it George. (Seriously, I love this story... I've tried to marry it, but our love will have to be a thing of dreams, but that didn't work out so well.)

I Dream of Other Men

Of course in my dreams, I'm another woman, so it's probably not cheating... and sometimes I kill them or put them in books so that's probably less worrisome.

So, naturally, since I opened up Sentinel's Run and started working on it last night, my muse tried to sabotage my efforts by throwing a different idea at me in a dream.

Here's the plot:

Seventeen year old girl (we'll call her Amy) with photographic memory is a night stocker at a retail store... one of her fellow stockers is an undercover cop, and she knows that because she broke into his car and went through his glovebox, and he has his real name on his car insurance. (Amy does stuff like this... because she just likes to know everything, and he wasn't quite making sense.) Something about him just gets into her head and she memorizes everything about him... everything. One night, she corners him and kisses him. He's into her too, but they get caught, and he gets fired because she is underage, and he's not--and the night shift manager has been looking for an excuse to fire the one male who isn't on the take for whatever scam they're running. The guy... err... we'll call him Derek... blows up the investigation but then leaves town because he feels weird because he let a seventeen year old get into his head and screw with his brain. (It's actually because he has feelings for her against his will, but that's what he tells himself.)

Five years later, Amy works at her sister's motel, and they have a guest that her sister wants to set her up with, but Amy thinks he's hiding something. (Plus, Amy knows someone is after her because she saw something she shouldn't have... but that's a minor detail in her mind. She always knew her memory would get her killed.) Her sister keeps trying to set them up, but both are proving resistant to the idea in spite of the fact that the guy admits he finds Amy attractive. Amy goes into his room and goes through his papers, and he walks in and catches her... and this is the scene I woke up with stuck in my head:

Amy held up the papers with a smile. She knew it... she knew he wasn't who he said he was.

"What are you doing?" a voice asked from behind her.

Hearing his voice without seeing him snapped everything into place and Amy winced. Was she destined to always fall for the same guy only to have him never be who he said he was. This was reaching cliche status. She only hopes he wasn't sent to kill her... because that would suck.

"What are you doing?" he asked again.

She turned and held up the documents. "Who are you really?"

Derek, who claimed not to be Derek, blinked. "I'm a pharmaceutical salesman from Detroit who is looking to relocate to the area."

Amy grinned and set the papers down. "I love how you say it like you're reading it from a paper. Of course, they all do--all the people I've known over the years who've been lying about who they are. You know why that is, don't you? It goes into a part of their brain that strips out the extras."

She could see the thought as it entered his head... she'd always been that good at reading people, especially him. It's time to distract her before she finds out too much; the thought hit his head and face at the same time. It was in the twitch of his eyelid, and the way his eyes went to her mouth. If he flushed a moment later, she'd know he was thinking of all the things she could do with her mouth--this happened about half the time she met a guy. It was the problem with having such a big mouth--guys were constantly trying to think of ways to keep it shut.

"So, you've changed your mind about me? Only you'd like to skip dinner and head straight back to my place?" he asked, approaching her. His skin hadn't flushed... he was probably too busy trying to figure out how to recover from this.

"It won't work, you know? Distracting me won't work."

He frowned as he slid his arms around her. "I could always have you arrested for breaking into my room."

So, he wasn't here to kill her. That was good. She'd wondered for a moment when he'd gotten close.

"My sister owns this place. I have the key. Besides, I might have been coming to bring you extra towels."

He looked down at the papers spread across the bed, the papers that she'd clearly been rifling through. "I could use extra towels."

"Too bad. You've already used your quota," she said, sliding her fingers through his hair and dragging his mouth down to hers.

He kissed like he did before--like he was putting it all on the line and holding nothing back. She'd never met another guy who kissed like he did. It was as if she was dancing through his thoughts and he was letting her. No one ever kissed like that... especially not with her.

A moment later, she pulled back and looked into his eyes--half in wonder--half in horror. She was doing it again... she was falling for a guy who was going to disappear and leave behind nothing more than his fake name and a whole lot of memories about how he liked black licorice or what songs he'd be too embarrassed to put on a mix tape even if he hummed them under his breath.

"A girl never forgets her first kiss," she murmured.

His eyes dilated a minuscule amount more, and he blinked again... that moment of recognition of what she was saying. Then, he opened his mouth to lie, but she headed it off. "Don't bother lying. I know it's you. By the way, your car insurance gave you away again. I mean, not that you're Derek... but that you're not who you say you are. The insurance policy is clearly for a government-owned vehicle. I've seen enough over the years to recognize one. So you work undercover for the government these days?"

Derek scowled, though she could tell he was secretly impressed. "It's been five years. I've changed my face."

He had too. He'd had some plastic surgery done at some point. In some ways, it was an improvement. In some ways, she missed his old face.

"Yes, but you kiss the same." She slid out of his arms.

(Scene/wrap/Wendy goes back to work on Sentinel's Run and leaves muse hanging)

An Idea is Born

I don't know how other writers begin a WIP. Well... clearly they begin with an idea. The plotters sit down and plot it out. The pantsers begin writing. As you know, I'm a pantser, but I think even for a pantser... I'm pantsy. No. Really. Not only do I not plan things ahead, I throw things in without even knowing what they mean.

This morning, I woke up with an idea... Last night, I was rereading a romance set in regency times... (sue me... I'm a girl... I read these things...) and they were listing off how many servants worked at this Duke's mansion and I realized that you rarely read the stories about these hundreds of other people in the story. His primary residence had a hundred servants in this story. When you couple that with the fact that I've recently realized how few dukes there really were during that time... Why do the dukes get the stories? It's not fair. What about the scullery maids? How about the grooms in the stables? Did they not have interesting stories? Crap, there were all these invisible people with lives that just didn't matter because they weren't one of the few dukes around.

An idea is born.

My ideas walk in fully-fleshed with even strange little details that I have no clue what they mean and that's how they start. I type them out of my head and, if I'm lucky, they'll leave me alone and I can go back to working on whatever I'm working on... or... not. Or the next scene drops into my head.

Since I'm probably doing a lousy job explaining it, why don't I just show you. Here is this morning's idea in rough draft form and it would be like a "prologue" to a four part anthology of novellas. (Yes, oy... exactly.) This is how my ideas are born... screaming and ready to keep me up at night. (BTW... I have no idea what the ogre or the whispering ring have to do with anything... therein lies a tale apparently. I'll know when I get there.)

I believe the title of this is "Off the Page" but I'm not sure. Anyway, here it is--and it's rough:

Of Note:

In the world of fairy tales the word “only” is thrown around cavalierly. She was an only child. The only entrance was through the tower’s window. The only way to break the spell was true love’s kiss. He was the king’s only son and heir to the kingdom. Only. Only. Only. Only.

Only… that’s not true.

There were other stories. There were stories that were, how shall we say it… off the page.

Dear reader, what would you think if I told you that Cinderella was not truly an only child even before her horrid stepsisters came to stay? People were not as cold-blooded as when they lay flat on the page for your perusal. Before Cinderella was even a thought, there was a baby boy born to her mother. The midwife said the child did not live the night. The midwife lied.

What would you think if I related the tale of the other way into the tower and told you that Rapunzel was not the only one who’d been held captive there? Why do you think the tower was originally built? Surely you didn’t imagine that the witch just happened to have a tower laying around that would work perfectly. Besides, hadn’t you reasoned out that it must have taken quite a while for Rapunzel’s hair to grow long enough to use for a rope? The window was not the only way.

Thankfully, true love’s kiss was not the only way to break the spell. Magic is far more flexible than that! If you waited around for that, you’d either be stuck with a load of dwarves or in a castle sleeping for a hundred years. What a misery! How unimaginative! Also a love that shallow wouldn’t last much beyond that kiss. No, it was not the only way. Anyone who knows a shred about either magic or love must realize that.

While I won’t deny that princes weren’t littering the ground, it should strike you as slightly perverse that there seems to be only one of them per royal family. Well… only one of them whom they talk about.

Dear reader, imagine the possibilities if you knew the stories off the page. Imagine if there were no onlys. Entire worlds would open up. You’d find out about the ogre and the whispering ring. You’d know that Cinderella’s brother sent the fairy godmother in the first place. You’d realize that you’ve been as trapped in a tower as a certain long-haired princess when, in reality, if you only knew where to look… you could rescue yourself.

There are no onlys and once you know that… you’re ready to journey off the page.

Unamused with the Muse

I just got the most brilliant idea for a novel. I mean... this is truly just amazingly vividly brilliant. I just want to hug it and love it and dive into it.

*eyes WIP list*

*sighs*

Yes, I wrote it down... and I'm hoping that'll put it out of my head, but that may or may not work... who knows. This kills me. I could get into it about 15K before I even took a breath... *sighs* This Restless Brain Syndrome is an awfully cruel way of musing. I find myself un-a-muse-d with my muse.

On the bright side, I also know where I'm going with the next scene in Promises of Light and Dark. That manuscript just hit 30K this week. I should stop pretending I'm not writing it and just embrace it, but I'm still in denial.

In other news, I turned in my final, final, final revisions of Secrets of Skin and Stone to Sarah and I'm assuming she'll be pitching it within the next month or so. (I've decided denial on this point may be the best idea also.)

The family and I have been off vacationing and just got back. (T came down with a nasty fever sickness at the beginning of this week so their Spring Break fun was condensed into just a short time.) We went to a nearby place and stayed in a room with a giant indoor jacuzzi... and the motel had an indoor pool. (B spent hours snorkeling... and T got the quiet he so desperately needed.) The husband took the kids to a nearby drive-thru animal park. We checked out an old abandoned fort as a family... because we're weird and scary that way.

I took a bunch of pictures because it was really inspiring in a post-apocalyptic sort of way... as well as it was just amazing from an artist's perspective. I really want to pull out my paints, but I'm not sure if I could do it justice. The mix of rust and old paint... was just... awesome. I might print out some of the pictures at some point or post more on here.

While on vacation, I took a break from writing to catch up on some of the reading in my TBR list. I read The Body Finder among other books. I'd been looking forward to this book for quite a while. It was a really good book, but I wish she'd gone deeper for the POV at times. It was in third person and it just felt too passive a POV for some of what was happening. It's one of those times when being a writer feels like it handicaps you from just "enjoying" a book. You want to just read it and turn off your writer's brain. It was really a good book, but I wanted more. Maybe that just means I need to pick up the second book.

Unfortunately my TBR fiction list just seems to double on a daily basis because I keep on tackling my TBR non-fiction list first. (Non-fiction doesn't mess with my inner-voice so it feels less threatening to my writing muse... also I really just like reading non-fiction.) I just finished reading Outliers for my book club... wow... THAT was an amazing book.

This has been a really emotional week for me for personal reasons... even before all the stress of T's fever (it hit 104 at one point) and the kids being on break, so if I'm less... Twittery... that's why. I did make the first cut in a short story competition and was notified this week. I should know later on this month if I made the top ten and thus into the anthology.

So, that was this week... I hope you guys had a great week. *hugs everyone* I'm looking forward to the kids being in school next week. Spring Break is rough on parents sometimes.

The Creative Process

Most of the people that follow this blog are most likely writers so, you know, that there is no one way that writers get inspiration. For those that aren't writers, be aware that my particular process is tainted by obsessions, quirks, poor memory retention, and a slightly split personality. Actually, it's my process that is more creative than processing my creativity.

So... I was reading through Without Honor trying to figure out where I was going with that book because revision was starting to wear on my brain. I couldn't figure out what my vague allusions meant but the story was really exciting--right up until I stopped writing it. (I told you... split personality. I vaguely remember writing some of it... sort of.) Then, Hunger Games arrived in the mail. Diana has suggested that the second in that series is the Holy Grail of Writing Perfection. Plus, I've been meaning to get to Hush, Hush. So, being as I was in between projects and without inspiration--it seemed like a good time to get some reading in.

So, naturally, I woke up this morning--in the frigid cold--in the dark--with the soggy wet weather making me feel exhausted. While I was internally complaining and whining, I realized where I was going to go with Without Honor. GAH! What? No! It's the seventh book in a series of unpublished books. (Reeve is so hot!) The seventh book! (Seriously, he really is.) I only keep writing it because I have so many addicts pushing me to it. (And... well... because of Reeve) Also, Honor is sort of fun to write. (Mostly it's Reeve.) Still, I have other WIPs I should be focusing on--really. (I can still think about Reeve while writing them.) I was just re-reading Without Honor to see what I had down. (Also, because Reeve's thoughts are steamy.) Bah!

So, I'm faced with a conundrum. Do I work on Without Honor or read these books--knowing that reading other books sometimes screws with the voices in my head for a bit? So, I'm sure some of you are thinking, "It's no problem, Wendy, just take some notes." (The thought makes me snort laugh.) So, I don't work with outlines. I work with dialogued moments--in my head. I think, "This conversation goes like this and it connects to this." I also leave myself clues to the bigger picture throughout the story--clues that I don't actually know why I'm leaving them until later on. Seriously. I'm constantly surprised when things work out in the end. It's really exciting when one of my characters figures out a clue and tells me.

So, this friend of mine really wants me to read "Hush, Hush" so I'm going to take a stab at notes for Without Honor in the hopes that I'll understand them when I get there.

(For those that read Honor's stuff, spoilers might be ahead, or trying to negotiate your way through what I'm writing might make your head explode. Either way--you're warned.)

Notes:

Connection to Ares important/Priest important/"Water is drugged" "You need to live."/Thor's backstory should come in/Island--find that island again/Not a hag--get rid of hag stuff/Mutus Liber/raising dead mentioned in book five/six days/Druids/Zombies/Honor targeted due to dreams/looking at boat at Locks/Refocus on date/"I've tasted that. I nearly would have rather died," Clooney said./Elixir of Eternal Death/Some islands might have Rogues on them--eating salmon/Why did Archer get left behind? You left him behind in Clooney's scene/Figure out the passage of time business--find a way or reason to speed up time/Honor dreaming of watching Reeve fight/Reeve has first dream/Motive behind abduction not entirely evil/leave open-ended for eight/Leave Honor behind/prison should not have earth in it--maybe cement or metal/basement/bathroom--just because otherwise that's gross/Ares being a dark magi will require re-explanation of that/You have Merlin, but maybe Gandalf would be better/Guerdon?/Make sure to disarm Honor--twice over because of other weapon/Get Faith a Tuck/she gets away--she? Probably/explain princess Diana's absence/If they have Rogues--they might have Shifts/Who or what are they fighting before Clooney's scene/end on dream or Christmas/mistletoe should keep coming up--wiki it/go back through notes for that one thing that you starred that you thought was cool--whatever it was.

Okay, that was my official brain dump. That is what my creative process looks like. A garble of strange thoughts with intermixed dialogue. I had more dialogue in my head, but it's already slipping away. Okay, I have yoga right now. Ta, all.

The hungry, hungry muse

The muse is a little like the hungry, hungry caterpillar--only there isn't that butterfly guarantee.

I tried my first "real" food last night. My stomach thought I was nuts. That's the payback on this particular flu. Even after it's gone your stomach just really wants to protest any food. What? Eating? No. Let's stay empty for eternity. Blech.

Apparently, though, I'm better because my brain started up at five a.m. and kicked me out of bed. Today, I swore I was doing a rewrite on Honor Among Thieves. So, naturally, the muse wants to play around with Matching Lies. In the past, I've thought, "Okay, I'll just write a scene. Then, I'll be done." One scene blends into another and, all of a sudden, I've written 5K and the day is gone. I'm not falling for that today. Nuh uh. I'm on to your sneaky ways, Muse.

The husband might be home today, though. I think the stomach flu finally took him down. I'd like to say it's his own fault but, really, I've been smothering him with my arms and legs in the night, and he's too nice to tell me to go away with my germy ways--my hot, sexy germy ways. Actually, just hot--I think I've been running a low-grade fever for a week or so. Ahhh marriage, je t'adore. The love and germs between a man and a wife are just touching, aren't they? (Why did the word "touching" sound slightly crude in that sentence?)

Anyway, so the plan.... There is always a plan. It may fail miserably, but it is there. My plan is to do a final rewrite of "Honor Among Thieves" over the next few days. I want to get it below 98K. We'll see. Diana did a line by line for me, and I'll tackle that--as well as some issues my mom found. I also have a hard copy that Stephanie and I have both smacked the heck out of. It's covered in ink. Then, next week, I'll work on getting it sent out to DAW again. I keep thinking, "What's the worst they can do? Laugh in my face and explain their form rejection always contains helpful pointers from a second reader?" Then I think, "That sounds kind of sucky. Can they really do that? Is there a form rejection for that?" Okay, so the plan is a bit wobbly and anxious, but it's a plan.

So, when a publisher asks for an exclusive, that's just among publishers, right? Can you still query agents? (Actually, honestly, I'm tired of querying agents. I know it's the right way to do things, but I put my heart and soul into it, and they always find a holiday to reject me on. These personal rejections sting a little more. Not that I want to go back to the good old days of "Pass and God Bless" but there is something that really nips at you a little more when they care enough to tell you exactly why you should find a different agent to pester.)

Can you tell I'm a little heartsick about the whole thing today? I'm really trying to really go back to querying this year, but I'm feeling like a sissy. Maybe I'll send along a fill in the blank rejection with my query.

Dear Wendy Sparrow,

While your story was brilliant and made me tingle all over, I'm just a very busy soul with (other clients/a bitter divorce, and I'm cynical/playing Sudoku/sleeping/reading "the next Harry Potter.") Don't lose hope. I'm sure that (the circus is hiring/you must have a day job/another agent will recognize your brilliance/this can't be the best you can do.) Keep (writing/querying/your manuscripts to yourself/blogging--it's your real strength.)

My best (regards/restraining order/toothbrush/agenty farewell/and dearest desire is to smother you with money, but I can't--so toodles)

Agenty Person

Okay, time to get to work. (Wendy cracks knuckles and looks at the time.) Crap. It's time to get the kids ready for school. Bah! Stupid muse and her tricksy little ways. We hates her, my precious. (Sorry, I feel a little like gollum this morning.)

Brain sluggish--not even good enough for a zombie snack

Any zombies reading this--move along--this isn't the brain you're looking for.

So, about ten minutes after I posted yesterday, I got a rejection letter for one of the two queries I have out right now. (I'm waiting until January for Honor Among Thieves.) I've tried to convince myself that this agent was just watching my blog and trying to sneak in a rejection while I was in a good mood--and not that fate is out to kill my Christmas spirit. (Speaking of fate, I had the most amazing idea for a story come to me in a dream. I've got too much to do this week, so I'm trying to ignore it--though I did write it down. Thus far, it's plaguing me still. It took me over an hour to get to sleep because of it.)

So, both Honor Within and Scorched made it to Lulu to be printed. Woo woo! That was today's project. I'm tuckered. Yesterday, I worked on photo books for grandparents and photos for Christmas cards. My lap top is a little hot from all this stuff.

Today, the car officially kicked the husband's tail. His motorcycle had already done that too. He wrecked and slid on ice this morning. (Yeah. Good times.) We drove the car to a local mechanic to see if they can drill out the drill bit--which is stuck inside the bolt--which is in the side of the engine block--which wasn't broken a week ago. (I don't know why she swallowed the fly--perhaps she'll die.) By drive, I mean I tugged it behind my SUV while the husband made sure it didn't crunch into the back of the car. I firmly believe such situations take years off your life. I think I just lost one year of my life. It was probably going to suck anyway, though. Let's face it--once you get beyond a hundred--the years aren't as kind.

So, tonight, I have a book club book to read. I've been putting it off. The Guernsey Potato Peel Pie Society or something like that--was never on my "books to read" list, but I picked it up--read for a bit--got bored--put it down. It's time to bite the bullet. My friend says that if I stick it out for forty pages, it gets better. She likes my books--so she must have good taste. :) I might resort to skim-reading if it doesn't really pick up by then. I read really fast, but so far--this isn't a page turner for me. Anyway, that's my goal for tonight. I couldn't make it through Pride and Prejudice either--and I've heard people compare this to that. That's bad news. It's rare for me to put down a book.

Okay, see you folks tomorrow.

Revision Unplugginess

I need to concentrate on my so-called life and on revising Honor Six. As some of you may have noticed, Honor Seven has made an appearance on my WIPs. The muse--she is cruel. I no sooner had finished Honor Six--when Honor Seven crept into my mind. GRRR! Really? I tried to ignore Reeve's dialogue in my head for hours while trying to sleep but, eventually, it's write or insomnia. So, the honeymoon was over on a head free of needed writing. Without Honor (Book Seven) is written from Reeve's perspective so I think it'll take much longer. As those familiar with the series know, Reeve is a lot more complicated of a voice.

Okay, so I'm going to get to work on revising everything in preparation for a massive Lulu hardcopy order. Hopefully, they'll magically have a beautiful and perfect sale.

Have a good Tuesday, everyone. Unplugged today.