Mother of the teen

I am now the proud parent of an official teenager. I can feel the weepy tendency lurking around the periphery of my emotional center, which I expected--it's that kneejerk, "but my baby" maternal reaction to a child growing up. But really, he's growing up into such a nice young man. Not perfect, no, but in my (admittedly biased) opinion, he'll make a good man someday. He spent yesterday evening watching election results and discussing politics with my husband and myself. This morning, when the video camera battery finally decided to hold a charge, he performed a retelling of an African folktale on tape to take to school. I expected some nervous umming and fidgeting, but he was not only cool and collected, he was entertaining and amusing (in just the right places). He's smart, he's funny, and he's thoughtful (or at least he strives to be, as he continues to develop an understanding of not being the center of the universe, as children tend to believe). I'm proud of him, and I also just plain like spending time with him.

So, yeah. Happy birthday, my Joe-Bear.

In other news, my new computer is supposed to ship today. Hopefully I'll have it by the weekend so I can work on getting programs installed and files restored. I dug up an old ms for a very young children's story that I wrote in ancient times. In reading it again after several years, I can see that it has promise, but I can also see where it falls flat. The difference between then and now is... that I can SEE where it falls flat. Mostly. I did some revisions to it on Monday, but yesterday I just looked at it and couldn't decide what exactly it needed. My instinct is that I simply haven't spent enough time lately reading children's stories in that age range, and a trip to the library is probably in order, so I can get back into the feel and rhythm of those stories.

The downstairs half bath has a fresh coat of paint and is looking much happier. I got two coats with the roller yesterday, but I still need to do a second coat on the trim. For those of you who have never painted a bathroom before, it's all about trimming and trying to contort your body to get the brush into tight places. Smallest room in the house, biggest pain in the butt to paint. (Those of you who have painted a bathroom before were wincing and shuddering as soon as you heard the words "paint bathroom.")

So, for today: Do that second trim coat in the bathroom, take a shower, make a library trip if time allows. Tonight, it's all about taking Joey to his favorite Mexican place for enchiladas and fried ice cream. And hoping that neither of the boys has as much homework as they did last night.

The best laid plans

For those of you not present to hear my wail of agony at the time of the event, my computer has died. It went quietly, without fuss, and responded to no amount of first aid or pleading. It is just, plain and simple, dead.

The good news is, I've been wanting a desktop for a long time anyhow, so I've ordered one to replace the deceased laptop. The other good new is, I use MozyHome and back up to a flash drive on a semi-regular basis, so my files and documents should all be safely waiting for me in one, if not both, of those places. The bad new is, I'm guessing it'll be next week before I have the new computer and have everything installed and restored and running the way I like.

I am currently camped out at Michael's computer, which I have set up as the temporary printer-connected PC, so it's not like I'm completely out in the cold. I was going to work on "Strong Enough" this week, but since it's on WriteWay and I don't feel like installing that on this computer just to move it again in a week, I may instead work on one of the stories accessible through his word processing program, which merely entails finding a copy of the document on my flash drive. My original emergency plan was to just focus on some much-needed painting of bathrooms this week. But man, I really need a story to work on, too.

At any rate, yes I'm still here. I may be more quiet than usual this week, however.

Introspection and planning

This week turned out to be all about the short stories. A surprise idea and rough draft for "Strong Enough," a finished first draft for "The Blue Wall," and an expedition into my back files which turned up an additional FIVE children's short stories that are all in at least first draft condition and which I had either forgotten about entirely or were better than I'd remembered. This put me in the enviable position of having more stories than I do markets to submit them to and sent me scurrying off into planning and scheduling mode. I have finishing and submitting the children's short stories all penciled into my schedule now, but while I was planning I realized that most of the markets I'll be submitting to have a turnaround time of 6 months in responding to submissions. When I sold "The Frost King's Bride" to Cricket, it only took about half that time for them to get back to me, but the potential for it to be May/June of next year before I hear back remains. That was, of course, a little disheartening for the part of me that was leaping around gleefully after finding I had seven stories to submit to my favorite children's markets.

I also realized that I really don't need to write any new children's short stories for a while, now. And with "Wings" and "Pale Roses" finished and out doing their thing, I think I've proved to myself that I am perfectly capable of finishing projects. Which means that really, I could focus primarily on Crowmaker again any day now. It still has a fair amount of work that needs done--additional layers of story and character to add, for starters. Still a couple of months worth of work until a second draft, I think, and then another rest period before I can determine how close it comes to really finished at that point. Again, a little disheartening to realize a finished novel is still out there on the horizon. I took a stroll through my bibliography and recollected the work I've done over the past 10 years or so, to reassure myself that I've come along pretty well in terms of craftsmanship and just flat out knowing what to do (as opposed to just staring at a blank screen and hoping I think of something to write down). At this point, it's all about patience, I suppose. God help me--patience has never been my strong point.

I also shared the first draft of "The Blue Wall" with a couple of friends. There's one transition that covers a couple of time periods, and I wasn't sure how well it worked, and sure enough, it threw off at least one of them, too. So, yes, Lori, you really do need to fix that up a little more. I also realized that, since my story took off in a different direction than I'd originally thought it would, I somehow missed the part that explains just why the blue wall is blue--a case of the writer knowing something and neglecting to get that little detail on paper. And it occurs to me that if that detail isn't critical to the story, I should also spend some time considering how to tie it in just a little better. Something for me to fiddle with this afternoon before I really put that story to bed for a week or so.

All in all, not a bad week.

Garden of first drafts

Under the category of today's accomplishments: Finished a round of revisions to "The Blue Wall" which made the structure feel a great deal more solid. There's one more tiny angle I need to work in, and then some tweaking of descriptive details and language. The rough weighs in at 1,900 right now, which for official word count method will likely take it a little over the 2,000 word top limit for its intended market. Plus there's that additional angle I mentioned that still needs added. However, my first drafts are typically full of sloppy wording and fluffy bunny filler words, so I'm confident that tightening things up until it's back under 2,000 words won't be an issue.

I also exported it from WriteWay to my plain vanilla word processor for easier formatting of the finished product. In the process of looking at previous manuscripts to copy over the title page formatting, I realized that I have at least one, if not two, completed first drafts of nonfiction pieces for children. And the one I browsed for a few seconds is, at least at first glance, not a bad piece of work. It just got swept under the rug during that two or so year phase when I threw a tantrum and declared I was just going to give up on writing. So those go on my honeydew list, along with the first drafts of "The Blue Wall" and "Strong Enough" and Crowmaker. Lots of revising to do in the next few months. I think I can hold off on starting anything completely new for a while.

That ought to keep me busy enough to prevent any obsessing over the fates of "Pale Roses" and "But He Had Wings." One would think.

Joey was still running a fever last night, so I kept him home again today. No fever so far today, however, and that horrible-sounding cough has started to clear up. This is good.

If only you believe strong enough

Yesterday was mostly comprised of taking Joey to the doctor and then making trips to the pharmacy, bank, and post office to get errands caught up. In between, I made phone calls and emails to assorted teachers, school administrators, and the doctor's billing office. (Ongoing insurance errors, and my doctor's office is the ONLY place that will actually work with me on them, even though it isn't THEIR mistake.) Then there was a parent-teacher conference. (The first one of the year is mandatory, even if the child is doing well, and Michael definitely is.) Joey's, of course, will have to be rescheduled, since the conferences at their school are student-led, and he obviously was in no condition for it yesterday. The doctor proclaimed a secondary bacterial infection caused by the cold he's been trying to shake, which was about what I'd assumed. Antibiotics, another day out of school, ibuprofen for the fever, and a return visit if it doesn't show signs of clearing up in the next few days. He's still running a fever today, but his color and his eyes are looking better.

I sketched out my basic ideas for the 6-9 year old story yesterday and surprised myself with a finished rough draft today. It's only 875 words (upper limit is 1,000 words), it's sillier than anything I've ever written (but it's supposed to be silly), and I'm unsure of how well it works. The structure is sound, and it feels like something my kids would've enjoyed in that age range. I'll let it sit for a week or so and then revisit it. A line from this Native American story became the foundation of "Strong Enough," but all similarities to that story vanish at that point.

I re-read "The Blue Wall" yesterday and found that my hunch about what I needed to do to scratch its itch still appeared accurate. I also decided that it's probably still in the Cricket Magazine age range, after all. It's next on my list of revisions, either this afternoon or tomorrow.

But first, there might be a nap, since I was up every couple of hours last night obsessively checking Joey's temperature.

If you didn't check out this Holly Lisle blog entry when it popped up over on my sidebar, you might find it inspirational. As is the case when one strongly opinionated person reads commentary written by another strongly opinionated person, I don't always agree with everything Ms. Lisle has to say. But damned if she doesn't nail things often enough for me to just say "read that, that's what I'd say if I were capable of articulating it that well."

Re-entering life

I wasn't going to blog first thing this morning, since I've had stories nudging at me for a couple of days now--they know it's time to get back to work, so I was going to dive right into them. I find, however, that the blog entries help me make concrete my vague ideas about what I've done, what I'm doing, and what I need to do. Which is sort of the reason I started the blog to begin with (in addition to that old writerly exhibitionist tendency).

For having been on vacation, I still managed to fit in a good deal of "work." I read a longish article/shortish book on writing scenes that I'd been meaning to read for a while. I read a YA novel (Tamora Pierce's Wild Magic) and was surprised to find that I liked it more than I'd expected to, even though it turned out to be more middle grade oriented than teen oriented. Which led me to thinking about YA novels in general, specifically in my previously unconscious attitude toward them. I never expect to like a YA novel, at least not at the same level that I like, say, a Robert McCammon or a Tad Williams--a book that I'm reading just for me, by an author I know I love. Which made me question why, then, I think I can write one. Which led me to dissect what I do like about the YA novels I've liked, as well as how well Crowmaker meets those criteria. So, not a bad exercise in familiarizing myself further with the market. I also managed to muddle through the copy of The Prince of Tides on the bookshelf at the villa where we stayed. They also had a copy of the movie, so I watched that. There were pieces of the story that really seemed to sparkle, but there were other places where it tasted kind of flat. But I learned things about writing from reading/watching it, hopefully, so I count that as more "work" effort.

Over the weekend, I did some internet research on Tamora Pierce and followed links around to research some of the other writers and books suggested in a discussion of good books with strong female protagonists for teen girls. I probably can't get around to reading all of them, but I should really get my hands on some of them. I have a reading list from the boys, too. Research! All of it counts as research!

On the actual writing front, "The Blue Wall" has developed an itch. I know it's not quite right as it is, and I have some vague ideas on how to scratch the itch. It's starting to feel less like a story for Cricket, though, and more like a story for Cicada. Which is perfectly fine, except that Cicada is currently closed to submissions. So I may wind up having to hold onto "The Blue Wall" until I find a more acceptable market for it. In browsing some articles related to the Carus Publishing family of magazines, I came across a recent interview with one of their editors in which she mentions wishing for more submissions for Spider. That's a younger age group than I've written for before, but I may have an idea that will work there. I'll spend some time, hopefully this afternoon, doing some doodling and idea charting and see what shakes out. "The Blue Wall" is on my list of stuff to doodle and idea chart with, too.

Crowmaker is still bubbling on the back burner. I have moments of revelation now and then, so I jot down a note or, as was the case this morning, write a quickie couple of paragraphs into the ms for a partial scene--this morning I had the first post-climax scene occur to me, so that's a good sign, I think. Some of the plot that I trashed along the way still tickles at me now and then, but the possibility that those pieces belong in a potential sequel also tickles. Whether that's a real possible sequel or just my subconscious trying to convince me we don't really need to do the work of adding plot back to the story right now, I can't tell yet. For the moment, I'm just taking notes for maybe next week or so, when I sit down for a more serious look at the story's status.

In the meantime, Joey's fever is back, and we're off to the doctor. And then there will be makeup homework for both boys, from the vacation days missed. And a few odds and ends of errands that I need to get caught up on.

More huh

So, uh... A couple of things happened yesterday. First, I faced up to the fact that I could fiddle with acts 1 and 2 of Crowmaker all I liked, but there really wasn't a lot of writing left to do for the ending, and my Muse was giving me that full, really pregnant feeling that indicates whatever I've been incubating for a particular story is ready to be born now. (It's a pressure kind of feeling. A something in the air that I can almost feel, sometimes. Or maybe it's just a weather front moving through.) In any case, once I acknowledged that yes, the ending was ready to happen now, it happened. I'd known from the beginning what was almost certainly going to happen at the end, even if I didn't know everything about it back then. But the "facts" of fiction are not the same thing as the "truth" of fiction, and once the truth of the ending had me, thing #2 happened.

Thing #2 was a writing binge, which extended into this morning. It's still rough, particularly toward the end. It's got holes and rough edges and nonexistent transitions. But Crowmaker is a finished first draft, at least as I define a first draft. It has almost all the necessary pieces and most of the supporting pieces. There's still a good deal of work to do on it before I share it, even with my beloved beta reader type people. It finished up at about 41,000 words, although that's word processor count and not official method count, so it's probably closer to 44,000. It'll likely build up some with story element editing before I start paring at it for line level editing, so that's not a bad weigh-in for the first draft of a young adult novel.

It's a really odd feeling, finishing a story. I feel satisfied, yet empty. Empty like a burden's been lifted, even if temporarily, but also empty in a scary way, like I've let go of something I've been nurturing so it can try its wings on its own.

I hadn't planned to finish the first draft for another month or so, so I also have an unexpected windfall of time on my calendar. I will, of course, put the rewrite/revision of Crowmaker into those slots, as well as moving ahead with the planned short stories. If I can manage to land a short story or two in a reputable children's magazine to back up my sale of 3+ years ago, that would look nice in a query letter to book publishers and/or agents.

But first, there will be brisk ocean air and walks on the beach. And fresh seafood. Lots of it. Including she-crab soup. Mmmmmm. Nothing like a week off to wash your brain clean and clear out the clutter.