What's Going On Here

So, I took a look at my blog today. I noticed the last time I posted.

October 2015.

October. 2015.

That's not really a blog. More like a biannual update.

I've been doing some deep thinking lately. Trying to figure out how to balance life, writing, reading, parenting, other work (like editing). And the thing is, if I want to devote my life to writing--and I do--then there's only so much distraction I can handle. The Internet is Distraction #1. (By the way,  YA novelist Nova Ren Suma has a fantastic blog called Distraction No. 99. I highly recommend it.) It's not just that posting things to a blog or Tumblr or Instagram takes time; I probably have the requisite little blocks of time. It's more a matter of focus.

Ours might be called the Age of the Short Attention Span. I've been watching mine erode over the last few years to an alarming degree, and really, if you want to write, you can't have a short attention span. You've got to stick in it for the long haul. Not to mention the fact that I feel physically unsettled, anxious, even kind of nauseous if I don't devote myself to long periods of what writer Cal Newport calls Deep Work--that kind of long, sustained focus on a project that used to be the norm for me. Which is why I used to get a lot more done.

I'm not going to shut this blog down, exactly. But I won't be here often. I'll run a giveaway if it occurs to me, but frankly, that takes a lot of time and scattered mindplay as well, so I won't do one every month as I was doing last year. Mostly, what I'll be doing is writing. If I have something to say about that, I may tune in here. But for all you half a dozen followers, I don't think it's going to change your life much.

And for everyone else, not at all.

If you're a writer, consider this path: the path of working, not networking. I'm thinking it will take a lot of stress off me and put more words on the page. Just an idea.

Four Questions For Writers

Thanks so much to Jennifer Ann Mann, author of the marvelous Sunny Sweet Is So Not Sorry and the sequel, Sunny Sweet Is So Dead Meat, for tagging me in this blog tour! If you haven’t read the Sunny Sweet books, you’re in for a treat—funny, heartwarming, and ultimately revealing, Sunny and Masha are my favorite literary sisters. The idea of the tour is to take you from blog to blog to see how different writers answer the following four questions. You can read Jen’s answers to the four questions on her blog post here. And when you come back, read on for my own responses.

1. What are you working on?
Right now I’m working on revisions for The Wand & the Sea, which is the sequel to The Key & the Flame. It’s been a long time coming, but it looks like The Wand & the Sea will be published in the summer of 2015. I’m also working on another book, but it’s too early in the process to talk about it. Suffice it to say it’s a middle-grade novel with some supernatural elements to it.

2. How does your work differ from others of its genre?

That’s a tough one! I think my stories have interesting plots but also delve quite a bit into character. People have told me that my writing style is a bit old-fashioned, which I consider a compliment.

3. Why do you write what you do?

I write fantasy and sci-fi for kids mostly, but not exclusively. I love writing that stuff because it’s just fun. I’ve written angst-ridden, serious fiction before, and it can be a drag on your emotional state after awhile. I write the kind of books I love to read and have always loved—books about ordinary kids who have that once-in-a-lifetime chance to live through an extraordinary, magical experience. And hopefully, they grow and change in the process.

4. How does your writing process work?

Before writing paragraphs and chapters, I spend a lot of time taking notes, brainstorming, and doodling (as much as what I do can be called doodling; it resembles nothing you’d recognize). I outline my books loosely, and then when I can’t stand the suspense anymore of wondering what will happen, I start writing to find out. I always end up deviating from the initial outline, but I always pin down the end of the story before beginning, and I do like to outline more specifically what’s going to happen in the next chapter as I go. Otherwise I’m likely to get stuck having the characters stand in a circle and stare at each other.

image by Mummelgrummel (own work) and used with permission according to this Creative Commons license via Wikimedia Commons

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The Saga of Colin & Mike

Here I sit in the coffee shop of my local junior college, as I do most Friday mornings. I feel hip, like a college student. I listen to the jazz on the loudspeakers; I sit opposite an abstract painting entitled Impending Doom. I am a regular now.

Last semester I had occasion to spend a few hours here most weekdays, for reasons I won't go into now, and I got to know the other regulars. Oh, not know as in, "Hi, Jack, how's it going? Ace that chemistry test?" Just know them as in, There's that deliriously happy couple who always hold hands over their steaming lattes. There's the heavyset guy who holds one-on-one Bible readings. That kind of thing.

Three seats away from me is the Talker. I discovered him one day last semester when he came in with two or three other people and proceeded to hold a very loud monologue on all sorts of subjects, most of them related to pop culture. He was at one end of the coffee shop; I moved to the other end, and I could still hear him, loud and clear. I'd forgotten to bring my earbuds, so I couldn't drown him out with music or white noise, and there weren't any other seats to be had in the student center. I was trapped with him and quickly developed a raging headache.

Today, the Talker is alone--but not entirely silent. He's working on some kind of math problems. I know this because he just now boomed out: "Bingo! I knew I was on the right track! So that's blah blah to the blah blah power ... yes! Wait ... Oh no! Oh, yeah ... duh."

Over in his customary corner sits Colin*, a slightly built young fellow who wears a stocking cap. I can't help feeling a bit lonely for him. Last semester he hung out every day with Mike, who wore heavy black-rimmed square glasses and a cool black Fedora. Every day they sat together for a couple of hours and chatted about their lives. Tired of living at home, they were planning on getting an apartment together; Mike wondered how to approach a girl he liked; Colin talked about how he wanted to have a daughter someday. (I found this endearing; how many young college men are even thinking about such a thing, let alone talking to their buddies about it?)

But this semester, Mike has disappeared. I haven't seen him once. Colin sits at the same table in his stocking cap, his head slumped onto his hand, listlessly staring at his laptop screen. Does he miss Mike? Did the apartment thing fall through? What happened to the car Colin was going to buy? The story has been cut off midplot, and I'm left to finish it. Did they have a fight? Did one of them confess to a gay crush and the other snubbed him? Did Mike drop out to play sax in a smoky nightclub?

I know that probably Colin is listless because we're all listless and tired of this endless winter of snow and cold and wind. Mike's spring semester schedule probably doesn't allow him time to hang out in the coffee shop (and when does Colin go to class, I'd like to know?). But my writer's mind spins out alternate scenarios. Maybe Mike's endless chatter and hipster attitude broke Colin at last. Maybe Colin has actually murdered Mike and hidden him in their new walk-in closet! Does he regret it now? Well, shouldn't he?

The Talker has finished his work with a triumphant bellow: "I hate math! Math is evil! At least it's done." Colin has given up and closed up the laptop for the day. The cute couple have gone to lunch. So now it's just me.

And the writing.


*I've heard these guys use their real names, but these are fake names. Just in case they're reading. As if.


image by Rüdiger Wölk (photo taken by Rüdiger Wölk) [CC-BY-SA-2.0-de], via Wikimedia Commons.

Thank-You Thursday: I'm Always Learning

Happy Thanksgiving, blogfrogs! Today is the last installment in my Thank-You Thursday series, in which I shrug off my usual grumpiness and revel in all that is wonderful about the writing life.

I guess there must be writers out there who hate research. ("Dang! Why did I have to set my novel in 15th-century Belgium? Was there even a Belgium in the 15th century?!") But most of us love it. We love it because we're naturally nosy curious creatures who enjoy learning about new things. Maybe we've never wondered what exactly the procedure is for launching a nuclear missile, but now we're writing a story about it, and we have to find out. And it's fascinating!

The thing is, most places, people, jobs, cultures are fascinating. Or at least they have fascinating components. Stories are everywhere, and if you love them, you'll find that research is just the search for the right one. You get to be the detective searching for that nugget of truth: Where was King Arthur's legendary Round Table located? How fast can a cheetah really run, and what does it look like? Are we ever going to get to drive flying cars?

Learning can take so many forms. It's not all about dusty history books. You can take lessons in archery or fencing or flying. You can travel to Rome and visit the ruins of a great empire. You can even eavesdrop on your middle-schooler and his friends and figure out what the hell they talk about all day.

So I'm thankful for work that's not only fun in and of itself, but that leads me to explore other civilizations and walks of life. That way I can lead a thousand lives not my own.

How about you? What fantastic bit of esoterica have you dug up lately?

P.S.  If you're really into research, see this recent post about how to write about a place you've never traveled to.

image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. Public domain. 

Thank-You Thursday: Inspiration Is EVERYWHERE

Why this photo? Because it sparks the imagination.

If you're just tuning in (as most people are), you'll not realize that I've been overflowing with gratitude about the writing life all month. (Check out the other Thank-You Thursday posts here.) This week, I'm grateful that as writers our inspiration is all around us.

If I were a stockbroker trying to make creative investment decisions, I wouldn't know where to turn for inspiration. (And, yeah, you wouldn't want me touching your money anyway.) Cooking? I can stare at a cupboard full of food and see nothing to eat.

But writing is different. The great ideas are just waiting for us! An overheard conversation (oh yes--I do eavesdrop), a moment of déjà vu, the shape of a cloud on a stormy day--all of these things are fodder for a story. And that's just the fountain of ideas. For excellence, we can turn to those masters who make it look so easy, but who work so hard. 

Here are some of my favorite inspirations:

• C.S. Lewis
• E.B. White
• Russell T. Davies
• Madeleine L'Engle
• Joss Whedon
• Stephen King
• J.K. Rowling
• Harper Lee
• Steven Moffatt
• Roald Dahl

... and that's the short list. As writers, we're free to pick apart the masters' material and see how it works, why it works, and what we can do to make our own stuff better. We can also glean inspiration from symphonies, pop songs, architecture, vast landscapes, city streets ... the list never ends. 

Don't ever tell me you don't have any ideas. What you have is an overabundance of ideas. You just have to narrow it down to a single, really good one.

So thank you, creativity goddess, for all the great stuff to draw from. And also, thanks for making me so bad at math that no one will ever hire me as a stockbroker.

And how about you? Where do you draw inspiration from?

image: The Prague astronomical clock (in Old Town Square) was installed in 1410 by clock-makers Mikuláš of Kadaň and Jan Šindel, and is the oldest functioning astronomical clock in the world.

Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. Photo by Godot13 and is free to share and reuse under this Creative Commons license.

Thank-You Thursday: The Fun of Writing

Happy November! It's the month of gratitude. Each Thursday this month, I'll tell you one thing that is fantastic and wonderful about the writing life that I'm grateful for.

Notice that I didn't say the professional writer life. Because that's an entirely different animal. The writing life is that experience--whether it's once a week, every day for 10 minutes, or your real-life, 9-to-5 job--that you have while writing. Publication is optional.

Today: I'm grateful for the writing life because

it's fun

That's right. The rest of the year, we can moan and groan about the agonies of writing, sitting over our typewriters and opening our veins, or banging our heads on desktops, the self-doubt, the isolation, whatever.

But at the end of the day, it IS fun.

Writers get to play, just like when we were kids, except we get to play forever. We get to close the door on the realities of our small lives and soar into wide-open vistas full of anything we want. Our imaginations allow us to create our own fun. We can time-travel to a 13th-century Russian monastery or a 25th-century Mars colony. We can fall in love or comfort children or fight Nazis. We can even save the universe using a kettle and some string.



I wake up every day wondering, What will I make today? A sad world? A happy moment? Will I scare people, enrich people, disgust people? Or just pour sand through a dumptruck in my own private sandbox?

The choices are ours. And they're marvelous. Be grateful that you get to do this, even for a few minutes at a time. Because frankly, if we were in it for the money or the fame, most of us--um, 98 percent of us, maybe?--wouldn't be doing it at all.


video clip is from Time Crash, that fabulous mini-episode of Doctor Who written by one of the most fun-loving writers I know--Steven Moffatt-- and starring David Tennant as Doctor #10 and Peter Davison as Doctor #5. Thanks to kaitlinmj for the video. Watch the full episode here (about 8 minutes long).

Hopping to the Luckies

Yes, it's blog-hopping time again, and while I ought to have posted this yesterday, guess what? I didn't. If you've ever seen one of those old cartoons where the character is split in two and tries to run in two different directions, you'll have an idea what my life has been like lately. (Yeah, don't even have time to find an example. Or, apparently, to use pronouns.)

But whatever is posted on the web stays there for all eternity--or so we're told--so you won't have any trouble finding this link today on The Lucky 13s, where we middle-grade writers talk about why MG is cool, why we love it, and why we write it. Call it a late Valentine. And pass the chocolate.


image from wikimedia commons; copyright Stewart Butterfield but reusable under this Creative Commons License.

Inspirational Talismans

Small confession, folks: Small because a lot of people already know this about me; confession because, well, not everyone does.

I keep stuffed animals around.

No, not that kind (taxidermy--ew). I mean plushies. The fun kind that I look at throughout the day and think, Oh yeah--work is supposed to be play for me. (And it is, most of the time.) So I thought I'd introduce you to some of my pals.

This is Snort, who sat on my desk throughout the writing of The Key & the Flame. The book revolves around the element of fire, so a dragon ... well, you get it. He came from a shop at the Great Wolf Lodge in Kansas City, KS.

Yes, that is Hedwig, fresh from the Harry Potter series. Since those are some of my favorite books, Hedwig deserves a place of honor. She was acquired at a shop at the Wizarding World of Harry Potter in Orlando, FL. (I know ... so cool, right?)

 Aslan the lion sits on my bookshelf in honor of The Chronicles of Narnia, my very favorite series of books from childhood. If you haven't read it, I can't think why you're hanging out on this blog instead of snatching up your very own copy of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Aslan was snagged from my daughter's collection of stuffed animals when she decided to cull the herd one day. *Whew* We nearly lost him.

Mortimer the Moose has no literary reference whatsoever, but he's cute as all get-out and represents the first stuffed friend I acquired in adulthood. He was a souvenir from my sister, who bought him on a trip to Jackson Hole, WY.

 Jabbers the parrot is one of the few genuine Beanie Babies to ever grace our home. I'm nuts about birds of all kinds, especially parrots, but they're so beautiful and wild I can't bear to keep them in cages. So Jabbers is my substitute. He was a gift from one of my lovely sisters-in-law.

Gimpy the frog came to live with me when I broke my wrist back in August 2011. It was a particularly sucky month, to be frank, and the broken wrist capped it nicely. I had to wear an external fixator for several weeks, so I looked kind of like a cyborg. Gimpy, a gift from my sis, made me feel less alone.

Pooh, my Bear of Very Little Brain, is both a tribute to A. A. Milne, who I love dearly, and to my daughter, who worshipped all things Pooh-related for a big chunk of her life. She's much bigger now, but Pooh never grows up, so he remains very special to me. Also, he's downright huggable. He came from a toy store that closed a long time ago in our suburb.

I bought the Reader Owl years ago because I thought she was hilarious. She used to sit on my desk when I was a teacher's aide and amuse the kiddos. Now she sits on my file cabinet and reminds me of the first rule of good writing: Read! Read! Read! I think she came from our local Borders Books, whose demise I still mourn.

Finally, Áedán is a little bean-filled plushie who represents the Golden Salamander in The Key & the Flame. Just as he's lucky for Holly, he's lucky for me, and sits on my keyboard while I write each day. My daughter found him for me in the gift shop of the Overland Park Arboretum & Botanical Gardens, one of our favorite haunts.

Now tell me: What talismans do you keep?

The Year in Writing

Blog readers--yes, I'm talking to both of you--December 2012 just about wiped me out. In fact, 2012 the Year just about wiped me out. Here's a rundown of my writing year:

January: I attend my first-ever SCBWI Conference. Come away energized, inspired, and yes, panicked. I have to justify this trip by being a Serious Writer. 

February: I do a lot of research for Book #2, the sequel to The Key & the Flame. Realize that the more I read about it, the less I know. Panic.

March: Continue fleshing out the outline for Book #2. Notice how thin the plot is. In late March, finally start putting some words on virtual paper.

April: Reviewing copyedits for The Key & the Flame. Quite a trick to work on new material while trying to focus on old material.

May: Read over galleys for TKTF. Wow. How did I miss so many errors? Would be great if I could rag on the copy editor or the proofreader, but no, these are my own goofs. Humbling.

June: With galleys and copyedits done, TKTF is out of my hands. Full-time focus on Book #2. Writing like a house afire ... except when I get scared and can't. Or have to work on editing jobs to pay the bills and can't.

July: Getting panicked all over again. How is it that I hadn't seen that my self-imposed deadline for a first draft of Book #2 was fast approaching and completely impossible? August 15? Was I nuts? Apparently.

August: First-draft deadline blows by me like a semi on the highway. Nice knowing you.

September: A month late, first draft finally complete for Book #2. Champagne! Caviar! Impending dread! (I'll have to cut about 30,000 words. It's really long.)

October: Slash my manuscript like I'm being charged a buck for every word I leave in. There go 10,000 words ... now 12,000 ... I swear there's not another thing I can cut, unless I want the story to go something like this: Some kids had an adventure. The end.

November: After leaving the manuscript alone for a week or more, I see how bloated it is. Wow, I can cut a bunch more. In fact, it would be criminal not to.

December: Working on the third draft for the first two weeks. Trying to answer the approximately 150 questions I had jotted down while reading through the draft. (No kidding.) Questions like: But if she does x on page 37, how can she be doing y on page 91? and I don't get this bit at all. Makes no sense. (Not a question--just a cat-o'-nine-tails that I flog myself with regularly.)

December 17: Finally in a position to do a final read-through of Book #2 manuscript. I figure I'll just do a quick scan and then send it off to My Lovely Editor. Should take a couple of days.

December 20: I'm rewriting every single page. The prose is so sucky it should be cleaning my carpets. Wow. Sad wakeup call here.

December 21: People around me are doing a lot of shopping and drinking cocoa and singing weird songs they don't sing any other time of year. What's going on? I'm still rewriting the manuscript. Somehow I manage to find time to erect a pine tree in my living room. Whatever. The book is calling.

December 23: Rewriting. Spell checking. Admitting that some problems can be solved in the editing stage. It's not going to the ruddy printer, after all. At midnight, I email Book #2 to MLE, who is probably quaffing eggnog with everyone else in America. I spend the next day wrapping presents for whatever it is we're celebrating.

December 24-January 1: I wake from an editing stupor. Wow! There's a world out there! And look--something snowed all over it. It's pretty and sparkly and I have presents to open. I spend a week saying Merry Christmas to everyone and playing games on my iPad and singing weird songs I don't sing any other time of year. I practice saying, "I won't worry about that right now." And I almost mean it.

photos: top, Stewart Butterfield; tiger on beach, Keith Pomakis; Craigievar Castle in autumn, Michael Maggs; winter in Bulgaria, Psy guy. Courtesy of wikimedia commons.

Tell me: How was your year? Regrets? Triumphs? Spill!