Deadlines, Schedules and Structure

Sunday, November 30, 2008.

Do List:
Go to church – Check
Let hubby take me out to dinner – Check
Write Blog – Check
Ignore dirty house and laundry and write – Well, I’m still working on that check mark.

Do you write better when you’re on a more structured schedule, or when you have a lot of ‘free’ time? Over the long weekend, my hubby left me to my own devices and went deer hunting all day Friday and Saturday. (But Bambi wasn’t cooperating. Yea!) Anyway, I found I had all this time on my hands, yet couldn’t settle down and write despite the fact I was in the middle of a scene. Guess eating too much on Thursday fried my brain. I know, poor excuse. Got a lot of stuff done around the house, did some exercising, worked out in the yard when it warmed up in the afternoons, took a nap. But didn’t make any progress on my current WIP. Now here it is Sunday. And tomorrow is Monday, which means back to work at the day job. And less time to write. Or is it?

Deadlines, schedules to meet . . . structure. I’m a darn hard worker. I’ll do whatever it takes to get the job done and within the allotted timeframe. I’m an accountant so there are always deadlines. Yet, with my writing I have a hard time setting goals – and meeting them even when I do set them.

I go in spurts. When I sit down and really get into my story, I get a couple pages written in nothing flat, but then will lose my momentum. Has this ever happened to you? Of course it has. But how do you deal with it? Do you brow beat yourself to sit and put one word on the page, then another, until you’re back in the grove? Or do you use rewards? Most of the time, I just have to scold myself and say I’m letting me down when I don’t perform like I should.

{An hour later} My ‘scolding’ must’ve worked — I’ve written almost two pages since I started this blog and I’m still going. But seriously, how DO you stay on schedule? Is it due to an internal drive or goal, or because of an editorial deadline? Inquiring minds want to know. (If I can figure this out – I can ‘check’ it off my list.)

~Linda~

A S.L.U.T. does Black Friday

Oh. My. God.

I did it. Again. Lived through it (which seems to be a bit unique this year according to the news!). And yes, I’ll probably do it again next year. This was about my, oh… I dunno… 10th year of doing the stupid-early morning shopping on Black Friday.

This was, however, the first year that I questioned why I put myself through the madness. It is possible I was simply echoing the sentiments of one very whiney and slightly shell-shocked hubby. In case you were wondering, yes, it was his first time. He was a Black Friday virgin. Poor thing. I’m not sure he’ll recover. He’s still muttering something about “never again… crazy women… had a shopping cart up my…” and, well, you get the idea.

Now, please understand, I don’t like to shop with my dearly beloved on a normal day. Cause, well… we don’t do it well together. Two completely different styles/ techniques of hunting/gathering. Like many women, I like to savor the moment. Look for the best bargains. Find just the right gift or needed item. He just wants to get in, get out and go home. [Actually, sounds a little bit like a certain intimate moment doesn’t it???? Just kidding!!]

So, anyway… there we were. Three-thirty AM at the local Wal-Mart. Hovering over the two items at the top of our list (the TV’s of course). The count-down began. Tick… tick… tick. As time crept ever so slowly towards detonation (A.K.A. five AM), more and more of the crazies crowded in. A few just flittered by. One, I am convinced, was drunk off her you-know-what cause she was asking random people up and down the aisle how to spell something. Then she and her girl friend tried to latch onto some poor young man and ask him, but it didn’t seem to go over well given the “what planet are you from” look he was giving both of them. Others glommed onto the pile we were trying desperately to guard one little corner of. The truly annoying one was the old man with the missing front tooth and overalls that stepped right in front of me and another lady to stand (lean on is more accurate) next to the pile. Never mind the already established boundary of people who had been there for some time before him. CLEARLY he didn’t care about protocol. But whatever.

At about ten minutes till five, chaos ensued. Don’t know exactly what started the madness, but suddenly TV’s and other assorted goods were flying off the pallets. People were grabbing stuff, shoving buggies down crowded aisles and in general acting like the base creatures that we are. More than one man stood next to an over-filled cart with a dazed look on his face.

Ah! There’s nothing quite like the adrenalin rush that goes with conquering Black Friday. And look at all the material you can gather if you take a moment to observe what’s going on around you and how people are acting/re-acting. I’m a huge people-watcher, so the time I spent just standing around was fabulous (and entertaining)!

Did anyone else brave the crowds this year? If so, what was the funniest, scariest, most annoying thing you saw or experienced?

Plot holes & character holes

At the last BS party (aka Brainstorming), our grand phubba, Jackie Kramer, pointed something out to me.

My heroine has no definitive goal. Can we say ACKKK!

I slaved over my plot, went over everything I thought I needed to know about my characters and almost 100 pages into it, Jackie drops this on me. *totally freaks out* At least for a few moments.

But…she, along with others at the BS, were kind enough to work with me through it and find some solutions. But it meant changing elements starting at page one. That I really didn’t want to do, but she was so right. And I was really glad I found it now, instead of on page 300.

So my question is, have you ever thought you had it all worked out, then realize that something MAJOR was missing in your WIP?

Btw– Thank you BS girls! I’m glad we found it now!

~Ashlynn Pearce

Happy Thanksgiving

On this Thanksgiving, may you have much to be thankful for and many with whom to share.

Share your favorite Thanksgiving memory, your funniest story, your cooking successes and disasters, or just take a minute to name names of those you’re most thankful for.

Thankful for Thanksgiving?

I used to really look forward to Thanksgiving, then I grew up and reality came into focus. I still love the food. And the company. It’s doing all the work that bites my butt.

This year I’m limping around on a cane or crutch, and I plan to swipe a tall stool belonging to DH to perch on while I work. Crutches and canes come in handy when you need to whack someone. Ask any of my kids.

Speaking of kids, I’m counting on a lot of help from them. And while I probably won’t be able to let go of the actual tasks (yeah, right) at least I can count on them to do the dishes. Especially if we use paper plates.

I started getting ready for the big day yesterday. Baked a cake and made cookie dough. I’m a sucker for turkey cookies. And before you ask, Marilyn, that’s NOT turkey flavored cookies. Couldn’t find my turkey cookie cutter, so they might turn into Christmas cookies–if  I can find those cutters.

As soon as I finish this blog, I’ll be brining my turkey and limping into the garden for some fresh sage to put in my dressing. No, my name’s not Martha. I just like the way herbs look in my garden, so I use them to cook now and then. Might make a center piece with them, too, just as soon as I carve out a wooden bowl from the tree that died in our yard last winter.

 Okay–Thanksgiving favorite: the dressing! Some people call it stuffing, but unless it’s inside the turkey, it ain’t stuffing. Yes, I’m prepared to debate the point.

I make it just like Grandmother did and I’m good at it, too. No fruity blech in the mix. Just onions, celery, bread and cornbread. And spices. And lots of liquid–chicken or turkey broth. It should be a little thicker than pancake batter when you put it in the oven. Dry dressing is the reason you have to make gravy.

Now the real secret to making it perfect: just before you put the dressing in the oven, pour the turkey drippings all over it. The flavor it adds will make your tongue lap your brains out. (Dad’s saying, and I think he said he got it from his dad, who probably got it from his dad, who most likely said it in German.)

I try to sing all the Thanksgiving songs I know while I work, which may be while I don’t get much help from the family. That’s maybe two songs.  “Over the River and Through the Woods” and “A Turkey Sat on the Back Yard Fence”. 

Tried to find the turkey song to attach here for your entertainment, but it locked up my computer, so if you want to hear the song, find it yourself.

Okay: What’s your favorite part of Thanksgiving? And you can’t give me the sappy answer, “family and friends”. That’s cheating. Be specific, too. The weather? Tell me what it’s like where you are. Fire in the fire place? What kind of wood do you burn?

If it’s the food, which dish? The drinks? Which one? Oh, and add your recipes. I might want to enjoy something new.

Hey, if I have to waste my time writing this blog, I should get something out of it. Right?

Ruby Spess (my grandmother’s) dressing recipe

4 QTs day old bread
2 squares corn bread
1/3 C milk
1 stick margarine
1 large onion, minced
1/2 C celery, chopped
1/2 tsp salt
2 tsp dried sage (more or less)
turkey or chicken broth
Tear bread into small pieces and place in 4 quart mixing bowl. Crumble cornbread into bowl. Add salt. Pour milk over breads and toss lightly. Saute onion and celery in margarine until tender, about 5 minutes. Combine onion and celery with breads in mixing bowl. Mix lightly. Add enough broth to make mixture about as thin as pancake batter, mixing lightly. Pour into pan, bake about 45 minutes at 350 degrees.

Don’t forget to tell me what you like best. Turn about–right?

The Word “Slut”

I learned two things about my husband this year.  The first was that he doesn’t like Chinese food, has never liked it-in fact he actively dislikes it. This was quite surprising because we’ve been going out to eat Chinese food about twice a month for the last thirteen years that we’ve been together.  I never had the slightest suspicion he didn’t like the food. This was probably because I was too busy enjoying my meal. 

The second thing I learned was even more surprising, shocking actually. Our blog name “Writing Sluts: Will Publish for Money” bothers him. He’s afraid we’ll attract the wrong kind of attention, give people the wrong idea, etc, etc. And this is from the same man who emcees the Vagina Monologues every year and who bought me a T-shirt that has “Vagina Warrior” emblazoned across the front. His problem is with the word “slut”. It’s a powerful word.

I think we all have a word or words that evoke strong reactions. Evidently for my husband it is the word “slut”. What are some of the words, phrases, metaphors, etc., encountered while reading that you either can’t stand or really like?

Claude Mary

7th Day Slut–but she hardly rested

Finally, it’s my turn to blog.  I’m wearing my brand new slut clothes.  I’m wearing a white satin tube top (two sizes too small), a tight, scarlet skirt four inches below the treasure box and thong panties.  All this is accessorized with five inch cherry stiletto heels, ruby red lipstick, and a clunky garnet necklace and bracelet set.  I’ve got my hair bleached and teased to within an inch of its life.  But my pride and joy are the long, dangling fake ruby earrings given to me by my boyfriend, Billy-Bob.  Or was it Bubba?

If the above paragraph you gave you a picture of what I look like as a slut, you know why I’m a writer.  I’m really a middle-aged great-grandmother who slops around in sweats.  I’ve got gray hair, sagging boobs, and a great imagination.  I write because it allows me to be whatever I want, go anywhere in the Universe and perform deeds that defy belief.  And if I’m lucky, I get paid for it.

But even when I didn’t sell, writing to me was like breathing.  I once stopped writing and couldn’t understand why my life was so depressing.  Thanks to a Parents Without Partners friend, I discovered without my writing, my life just sucks pond water.  (Thanks, Les!)  And since I joined together with other people who share my love of words, understand what it’s like to have multitudes of characters crowded in their heads, life is even sweeter.

So I’m hoping you’ll join us here on the blog and come often.  You’ll find words of wisdom, provoking thoughts, and, if you’re real lucky, you’ll catch me on the day I’m wearing my Vulcan Vestal Virgin robe.  Isn’t that intriguing?        

Queen of the Sluts

Nope, the gang here didn’t give me that title. I just come by it naturally. (No, not that way.) Truth is, my nickname for a good many years has been Queen of Everything, so it follows that I get to be the Queen Slut, too, right?

I’d like to promise you that this will be the one and only time I’ll bore you with anything personal about me, but I’d be lying. I don’t know a writer who can totally separate their personal lives from their writing lives. (Write what you know — you’ve heard that old one, haven’t you?) We are, to a large extent, our books and our books are us. Sort of.

I’ve been in this biz way longer than I want to think about. My son was in 2nd grade when I sold my first book. His son (who is amazingly gorgeous and smart) just turned one. So many years, and yet I’ve remained so youthful. Doesn’t it show in my picture?

Marilyn

Let’s see, I’m the sixth poster, I’ve sold more than sixty books, and I share my house with my husband and six unruly, unrepentant dogs, so I guess the number’s significant, at least for the moment. I write romantic suspense, and I love my heroines. I’ve been surrounded by strong women all my life, so it’s only natural that I write my heroines that way. Heck, our pack of puppers has two alphas. Is it any surprise that one of them’s a female?

Or that I hang out here with this bunch of Women?

Virgin Slut

That’s right, this is the first time in my life I’ve ever blogged. I’ve never owned a cell phone either. Horrors, you say! Well, before you snarkingly ask . . . no, I don’t write my novels with a quill by candelabra light. I do own a PC (although it’s so old it runs on coal). 

This past year, I took a baby-step into the 21st century and purchased a voice-recognition program, hoping to speed up the writing process. The first week, as per the instructions, I trained it to recognize my particular voice and speech patterns. Then, once I’d added some of the words unique to my novels–character names, fictional places, and such–I spent a few days playing around with it and testing its new-found knowledge.

The second week I wore a hernia belt while my aching belly muscles recovered from the previous week’s prolonged paroxysms of laughter.

That said, the program has become a useful tool for me as a writer whose brain outpaces her fingers most of the time, and who can’t spell as well as the average house cat. Most often I use it to get down that first rough draft, but I do edit with it on occasion. And even though both the program and I are now well-trained, the voice recognition is far from perfect.

The silliest things occur when I’m not even speaking. A sneeze gets typed as high who you. If my min pin barks in the background: artwork for for at rat. Then, to really make a mess of things, I swear at my computer: oh crab known stupid piece of cheese. And when I laugh out loud (which is often): hat this to you who are how how that. After six months, it still types the names of the hero and heroine of my erotic romance as: chastened clear (Jase and Claire). I won’t go into detail regarding the odd and/or physically impossible acts it’s had them performing in the sex scenes. Suffice it to say they involve: clear’s put see and chaste’s hard cot.

At $14.95, the program was a great investment . . . if only for its entertainment value.

HS (aka Harley Slut) – Day #4

It’s Day 4 for our brand new blog. What do you think so far? Btw, Ashlynn, the #4 is MY lucky number, so this worked out great!

Like the other ‘new’ bloggers, I’ve been trying to think of what to chat about. My Harley (Yep, I’m one of those!) and how I like to work out plot problems while zipping down the highway at 70+ mph? Or my first critique and how I was literally sick the next day because my ‘perfect’ work head-hopped so bad it made you dizzy? Or how many times I rewrote the first chapter of my first manuscript? (No less than 50, I assure you.)

Or should I talk about how you manage to find time to get any serious writing done when you work a full time job, then your hubby goes out of town just when one (or both) of the dogs gets sick and needs lots of babying and lots of meds, so your entire evening is shot?

Actually, I think the thing that’s amazing is how much work writing is. When I tell people I’ve written a book, their first response is, “So when will it be published?” I just want to slap ‘em! They think because they can read a 300 or 400 page book in a few days (or less), that getting those wonderfully written pages published should be a piece of cake. If only . . . . I find the longer I’m in the business, the more I need to learn. Not only the craft of writing, but the business of getting – and being – published.

And why DO you write romance? Yeah, I know there are all these ‘people’ running around in your head that simply refuse to go away. But why romance and not some other genre? For me, it’s the HEA. I’ve always been a romantic at heart and I love to see the hero and heroine finally make it through all their obstacles and get together. I want to rest my hand over my heart and go, “Ahhhh,” then close the book with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. So to speak. {See. I told you I was sappy. LOL}

So, why do YOU have a passion for, well, passion?

Let me, Linda the Harley Slut, know.