Not In the Mood to Edit

Editing is one of those inevitable things with writing, where you go back and fix and polish your work. I've talked about reading things out loud and about letting it set a bit. What I haven't done is tell you when you shouldn't be editing.

See, when writing is ready to come out, you can't stop it. And, at least in my case, when it's not in me, I can't write. There's no right or wrong time. I write because I have to.

But editing is something else. It's hard to look at your own work with fresh eyes and try to figure out what's wrong with it. Even if you've managed to detach yourself enough to be (fairly) objective, you know what you were trying to convey, why the characters act the way they do, what you meant to say. Many times I miss whole words I'd forgotten to write in the heat of writing it down the first time and my mind automatically supplies them when I edit. Very embarrassing, some of those slips are.

It's necessary, time-consuming, and rarely fun, at least for me. But, no matter the urge to get it over with, I've discovered there are two times I should leave it be a bit longer:

(a) When it sounds perfect
(b) When it sounds like unadulterated crap

If I feel either way when I start, where everything is perfect or everything sucks royally, I'll know I'm too close to it for whatever reason. I'll need perspective or what editing I do will be warped.

'Cause, in the end, it's not about feeling good about it; it's about making something good.

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Simmering on the back burner

You ever have that feeling that somethings gelling in your subconscious, that your brain is putting this or that together, cooking, percolating, building until, when it's ready, you'll be able to sit in front of the computer and have gorgeous prose just bust out of you?

I do. I get that a great deal.

Unfortunately, because of the way my brain works, my conscious mind has no insight into what wonders my subconscious might be working. I know I'm working on something; I can feel it, feel inspired.

The problem is that I have no idea what work is going on. I don't even know which of the eight or so projects I have in hand I'm working on. That's right, folks, I have no idea which novel I'll be working on.

Crazy.

On the other hand, what fun it is to see it in print for the first time, reading it like it was for the first time 'cause, hey, it will all be new to me. Crazy again, but kind of cool, too.

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True Romance

A surprisingly large portion of my favorite books, from classics to all genres, involve a measure of romance. Not just romance, but romance the way that I define it.

Sadly, in my opinion, many romances, at least today, have lost sight of that same romance.

See, when I speak of romance, I mean loving someone more than yourself. Not letting yourself be destroyed by them, but willing to sacrifice yourself on their behalf, which is something different.

Most of today's romances have heroes that demonstrate their love by losing control of their lust, even raping, with a woman, no matter what the consequences to her and/or tossing her aside with prejudice at the first hint (however meager) of infidelity or betrayal. Female protagonists seem to either be a male version of such a scumbag or a limp doormat ready and willing to be kicked around by the hero because she's set on fire by his touch (no matter how intractable she is otherwise).

*Barf*

The notion, central in my opinion to true romance, of making sacrifices or adaptations for the well-being of another, including restraining one's own lustful urges if they will do harm (as they frequently do in romances) seem very much the exception and not the rule in today's romance...and more's the pity. Romance means trust. Romance means working for their happiness rather than obsessing on your own jealousy. Jealousy is not romantic. I will note that at least two of the most successful romance authors ever write true romance the way I see it.

That should say something, if only I'm not the only one out there who is more enchanted by love between partners, where sex is friendly, consensual, and even foregone if it will do the other harm than I am "love" that is basically unstoppable, even brutal, sex in graphic detail between two people who do nothing but hate each other when not in the sheets together (and sometimes there, too).

I love love, believe in it, live it. Nothing makes me fall in love with a character like being truly romantic (per my own definition). Nothing makes me shut a book faster than sacrificing your lover to your own selfish interests.

There, I said it.

Now I feel better.

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Well, That's Gratifying

So, I'm in a good mood. Something cool happened to me, writing-wise.

See, at one time I put two items on helium.com, thinking that was a writing haven to pursue. Helium.com lets readers read and compare stories with the same "topic" so works can move toward the top. I was cool with the notion until I found out that you can't remove them, take them down, or, in fact, have any control of them. One was a short story I'd already had published (currently ranked 3 out of 92 so that's not bad).

The other was a long rhyme and rhythm poem (The Siren) that I have completely ignored for years, currently ranked 1 of 8. Which is kind of cool since my type of poetry is terribly old-fashioned. I have no illusions on the sale-ability of my poetry in general.

So, I was gratified to find that someone was trying to contact me to use that Siren poem. She did a google search for siren songs or something, found my Siren poem and then apparently did a google search on me that took me to my blog Ask Me Anything. And asked if she could use it.

Turns out, she's a clothing designer in Europe who wants to use the poem in an ad campaign. True, I won't make any money from it, but isn't that COOL?

I thought it was.

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That Special Something

I like characters. I make no bones about it. They're a favorite. It's what I read for, what I write for.

One thing that amazes me is how even bad books can have good characters, how characters you like don't have to be perfect (in fact, the best aren't), can make mistakes, have (very) checkered pasts, be funny, taciturn or whatever. But they have that special something, that spark that appeals to readers or audiences alike.

Take The Princess and the Frog. My world-weary teenager didn't want to watch it but, as a cruel parent, I made her. She fell in love with one of the characters and nearly cried late in the movie. I won't tell you why she cried, but the character was a little bug, a firefly with a huge glowing butt.

And I totally understand why she loved him. So did I. Only Disney and/or Pixar can make bugs that appealing.

In the Twilight books, I totally get Edward. Actually, I find the large number of teenage characters (Bella, Jacob, etc.) irksome and all teenagery, but Edward is 109 year old and I can completely understand where he's coming from. I get him. I don't care what the critics say. People who read those novels do so because they get some character or another.

That's the key. People have to "get" your character, identify with him or her. You do that, you put that in words, and they'll follow your character anywhere.

And that's why I write the way I do.

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Something I Can't Express

In general, I'm pretty confident in my ability to express things with words.

I feel like I can paint a scene with words so that most of us can conjure an image, can evoke the brilliant depths of the jungle in shades of emerald and ruby and sapphire teaming with insect life, or oppressive heat and faded landscape of the desert, shimmering in the noonday sun.

I feel I can call to mind the tink tink of rain on a window pane when one is trying to sleep or the warm rumble of a cat's purr curled up against one's neck.

I feel I can capture the sharp scent of lemon or the itchy feel of bark against one's back.

I can, and have, evoked laughter and sorry, fear and loathing, tenderness and surprise.

I've brought voices to life in dialog that many have claimed to hear.

The one thing I can't seem to figure out when it comes to writing is music. Oh, I've tried (Windrider), but it's not the same. Music, I think, has to be experienced, not just because the range of emotions and music is so vast, but because it becomes personal to each one who hears it, who experiences it. The most I could give is what I experience and that's a far cry from the music itself.

I thought about this this past week as we watched the movie we bought my children, The Princess and the Frog. I'm by no means a connoisseur of jazz and cajun music, but I found it all compelling (more so since the speakers and singers were the same), from the clear and powerful voice of the main character, to the dark and mesmerizing song of the villain to the lullaby of the firefly, Ray, to his far-off love to the snappy music of the old voodoo woman. Charming.

I guess I'll know I'm really good when I can describe it and you'll be able to hear what I'm singin'.

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Sarcasm

I've mentioned before that I love dialog. Well, I do. I think it's the sarcastic streak I have in me. I read something snarky, write something sarcastic and I tickle myself terribly.

If you glance at my favorite authors at the blog posts I did on all three blogs a few days back, you'll probably note more than my fair share of humor and sarcasm. There's a reason for that.

I love it.

I love clever comebacks and cruel wit. I love sarcasm and irony and humor. I love people who aren't afraid to say what they think in a clever way. I like when pretensions are squelched or people predisposed to prejudge have their expectations turned on end.

Heck, I live for that.

I read some of that today (Georgette Heyer) and read more reading through one of my own novels, looking for flaws.

Good stuff, if I say so myself.

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Finally, Moving Back Into My Groove

Well, that was fun and it got me to thinking. Time to get to work on more writing. I have a bunch of novels in the hopper. What to do next?

My husband has a pet product that would probably be a good idea to pursue. This was one of his ideas and he seems to have finally settled on a plot. Now, Lee is the gadget guy, and he has this fabulous space ship envisioned with fabric drive and hydroponics and, well, everything.

And Phoenix, the artificial brain that drives this craft and its eclectic command crew. He has armor and little fighter craft and weapons all picked out. That's what he does best. He had the crew, of course, when I got there.

But I'm the one that fleshes 'em out, gives them voice and history, makes them work together. I've written probably twenty chapters on these folks already, but he kept changing the story he wanted to tell. Time at last to put all these interesting folks together, from the ugly amphibious alien deathly afraid of cats to the tiny Captain, leader by default.

Can't wait.

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Answers for Yesterday

Most did better on the classics than on the others. Here are the few remaining answers for those that missed 'em.

1. Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll.
2. The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas.
3. A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court by Mark Twain
   
4. The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling. Again, I was surprised; admittedly, I could have ensured it by naming Mowgli.
   
5. The Scarlet Pimpernel by the Baroness Orczy
   
6. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte, my personal favorite of that talented family.
   
7. 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne (which I would not have figured out myself)
   
8. The Time Machine by H.G. Wells. Hopefully, I'm not the only one who thinks of it as a classic.
   
9. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. I could, of course, said Dorian Gray, but that made it too easy.
   
10. "A Cask of Amontillado" by Edgar Alan Poe (I know it's a story; sue me)

So, now you know the kinds of classics I favor. Kudos to Roy and The Mother for getting so many of these.

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Carrying on the List From Yesterday

See, you all probably thought I'd give you all the answers today. Haha, not so fast. I'll be the first to say that I would have struggled to determine some of these books from the first line, but I do know my characters. And, besides, I got the idea from Relax Max. Again. So, for all the ones not guessed, I'm going to provide character names and let you try again. If there was a character mentioned in the first line, I'll assume it wasn't enough and add a second character.

1. Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll.
2. The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas.
3. Hank Morgan
4. Father Wolf and Akela
5. Marguerite St. Juste
6. Catherine Earnshaw
   
7. Pierre Arronax
8. Time Traveler and Weena
9. Basil Hallward
10. Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Alan Poe (I know it's a story; sue me)
    

And, yes, I'll be doing the same on my other blogs, Ask Me Anything and Rocket Scientist.

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