A Day in the Life

Ahhh, the life of a writer. Nothing but glamour and raking in money. Bet that’s what you’re thinking. Yeah, I wish. Maybe if you’re James Patterson. I hesitate to say Stephen King in the same sentence as “glamour,” though he’s still raking in the money.

I am a writer. I live in a mobile home. I’m writing this in bed, on my laptop, wearing a nightie. I’ve got a clothes rack in the corner where my underwear’s drying because I did laundry the other day. Glamorous enough for you?

I’m sure my lifestyle is the reason I haven’t hit the Patterson or King levels of income yet. What am I doing wrong? Let’s have a look.

How a writer’s life should go—You get up early, ready to rock. You only get dressed if you feel like it. You grab your coffee and something for breakfast and then you go to work. That means parking your butt in front of a keyboard for however long it takes to meet your quota of pages or words, whatever you’re aiming for. That can go anywhere from three to twelve hours. In addition to the actual writing, you’ve got edits to work on and queries to send to publishers and agents. The money’s not phenomenal, but you’ve got enough coming in to cover the bills and occasionally take a vacation. It still beats the hell out of dealing with bosses and co-workers. If you’re imaginative, driven, and anti-social, this is the job for you.

How a writer’s life usually goes—You get up and go to your day job. If you have a family, first you get the kids off to school. Then it’s eight-nine hours of doing what pays the bills. You might be able to get some writing in before you go to work, and maybe a little over your lunch break. When you get home you fix dinner, play with the kids, maybe pay attention to the spouse. While the rest of the family’s watching TV, you’re at your table in the corner, writing like mad. You’ve got a bunch of things on the market but nothing’s sold yet. No response from the dozen agents you queried last month.

That’s okay. You have faith in your latest endeavor. The plot excites your imagination and the characters have started acting in ways you never expected. All you have to do is finish it. This could be the one!

How my day goes—Up some time between 5 and 6 a.m. Some days I’m up earlier because I took a pee break around 3 a.m. and couldn’t fall back to sleep. Might as well get up. Get my cup of tea and maybe a banana. Dammit, have to write a blog today. Okay, that’s done. Write or play computer games? Maybe I’ll read a bit.

9 a.m.—time for breakfast. Eat something while parked on the couch watching the Supernatural reruns on TNT. Write during commercials. Or read. I haven’t vacuumed in at least two weeks. Do the dishes? Nah, let ‘em sit.

Oh hell, I’m running low on milk. Better make a grocery run. Gotta post the blog first. Go to the library because I don’t have home internet. Post the blog, check emails, then fiddle around for two hours. Get groceries before I go home. I should take a shower.

We’re into the afternoon now. Time for a nap. Or I could write a bit. Let’s see what’s on TV first. Flip channels for awhile. Eat lunch while watching American Pickers. If I make my characters antiques dealers, I can call this research.

Hit the library again to re-check up on emails. Sales are pathetic. Think about doing marketing. Go home and eat dinner. Mow the lawn if it needs it. See if anything’s on TV. If not, read. Go to bed until around 3 a.m., when the bladder gets me up again.

Did you see a lot of writing in there? Me either. Now we both know why I’m not very successful at this.

It’s not always as bad as I made it sound. Some days, when I’m hot on a project, I can go for four-five hours. Other days, zip. I go off on aimless road trips or get caught up in cleaning the bathroom. It’s amazing how fast you can use up a day doing nothing.

These days I have the freelance stuff, which comes with deadlines and regular pay. I’ve already devoted full days to that. Call it my day job. I’ve been on a bit of a block lately, but I still manage to squeeze out at least part of a page before I go to “work.” I’ve never been very fast or prolific.

Maybe I should just give up on novels and go into scriptwriting. Then when I turn on the TV, it’s “research.” Or I could cancel cable. No, I’d only read.

Because writing is damned hard work, no matter how much or how little time you spend at it. Creating whole worlds and putting believable people in them wears you out. You spend all day in your head. Just when you get into the groove, you have to stop and answer the phone or go to the bathroom or deal with your family or eat something. Looked at your butt in the mirror lately? Oy.

But you still get to choose your own hours, and you don’t have to leave the house or even get dressed if you don’t feel like it. I’ll take that over glamour any day of the week. Now all I need is a steady income and I’ll have the perfect life. How about it, folks? Who wants to send me a dollar?

Flirting With Murphy

Here we go again. I just never learn.

A couple weeks back I caught an announcement for an open call from a UK SF publisher. They’re looking for anything with a science fiction, fantasy, or horror flavor. Young Adult is okay, as long as it has crossover appeal. Self-published is okay. Partially written/unfinished works are okay. No agents required. In fact, if you’ve got an agent, they ask that you have said agent submit your work through the usual channels. This open call is meant for the unagented only.

Perfect. I don’t have an agent. I do have an old urban fantasy/horror book I wrote way back when. It’s already been through several open calls, without success. Ditto for queries to publishers. But hope springs eternal. Maybe its time has passed, but it could be its time hasn’t come around yet. Sooner or later it’s bound to hit the right desk at the right time. Is this that desk and time? I sent my synopsis and chapters last week. We’ll know in a couple of months.

Then there’s that YA book I’ve been screwing around with. It’s science fiction, alien invasion of Earth division. It’s definitely YA, but is it crossover enough to satisfy these people? I sent that one too. I figured I’d let them decide.

Here’s the problem: the urban fantasy’s completed. The YA isn’t. I’m maybe a third of the way through, longhand in a spiral notebook. I know vaguely how it ends, but how I’m supposed to get there from where I am, that’s a little sketchy. Make that a lot sketchy. I’m like Indiana Jones trying to steal back the Ark: “I’m making this up as I go.”

I wish they hadn’t said it was okay to send in unfinished works. Because you know what’s going to happen now. If they’re going to say yes to one of my two entries, Murphy’s Law dictates it’ll be the one that isn’t ready. I know. I’ve been through this before.

Several years back I entered the American Title writing contest, sponsored by Dorchester Publishing and Romantic Times magazine. When I entered, I had a finished book, of sorts. It was a handwritten first draft. I sent in what the contest asked for and then went on with my life. I kept meaning to type up the manuscript, just in case. But then again, why bother? They must have gotten hundreds of entries. What are the odds they’d ask for mine?

Pretty damn good. I got the email while at work. I’d been chosen as a finalist. They wanted my complete manuscript.

Eek.

Massive panic followed. I told the job I had an emergency and had to leave. I went home and for the next day and a half typed like a maniac. Dorchester wanted an email version, but I didn’t have the laptop then. I got them to agree to accept printed pages. I FedEx’d the book to them in batches. I was red-eyed and exhausted at the end, but I got it done.

Then I got cut in the first round. Yeah well. I got fired from the job, too, but that wasn’t as big of a deal. It was temp and I didn’t like it anyway. Dorchester went out of business about three years later, so they didn’t fare any better.

The point is, never think, “It won’t happen to me.” It will. Murphy’s got a vicious sense of humor, and he’s always on the lookout for unsuspecting schlubs to lay down his law on. If I don’t finish the book, the publishers will want it. If I do finish the book, I’ll get a “thanks but no thanks.” Although if I finish the book, I’ll have something to query YA publishers with, so that’s a win for me.

Fortunately, I have plenty of time. They’ve told us we should all hear back by the end of September at the latest. That gives me over a month to finish a first draft. More than that, I’m willing to bet. My past experience with open calls has taught me to add a minimum of six months to any done-by date the publisher gives us. The last one I entered, for Harper Voyager, was supposed to run three months. We waited for over a year before they made a final decision. England’s a smaller country. Maybe they work faster.

At least this time around I have the laptop. I can type up the manuscript directly into the computer if I have to, so it (or however much I have done) will be ready to go at the touch of a finger. Of course, if I’m done by the end of September, they’ll say no. With Murphy, you just can’t win.

But wait! There’s that story I sent to Evernight, the one that got accepted. If I get those edits with a short turnaround, that’s the week I’ll get the response from the UK publisher. I forgot to factor in all the variables.

Best-case scenario: I get the book done and almost completely typed before I get a go-ahead. Worst case: I just covered that up there. I suppose it could be even worse. This time I don’t have a job.

Old Dog, New Tricks

Once again I find myself poised on the brink of entering unknown territory. In this case, it’s self-publishing. My first Talbot’s Peak novel, The Mountain Lion King, is almost done with the editing phase. (I should probably call it my first intentional novel, since our freebie offering, Love to the Rescue, just kind of happened. You can download that one from Smashwords. Just click on the cover to the right and follow the link.) As soon as it’s as perfect as my editing skills can make it, the formatting and the fun begins.

Correction: as soon as I quit dragging my feet.

I’m not in any rush to get to the formatting part. Months back, when we were putting Love to the Rescue together, I downloaded the Smashwords style guide and read through it. Several times. Mr. Brain realized how much work was involved and immediately went into panic mode. That gave my procrastination tendencies an excuse to come out and play. I formatted my copy of the file part way and then just gave up. Fortunately Savanna knows how to format so she put it all together for us (thanks, Sav!). Click on the cover over there and get ready for a roller-coaster ride of romance and adventure. For free. That should be enough plugs for one blog.

Meanwhile, I’ve still got a manuscript rapidly nearing completion, with the prospect of formatting looming before me. At some point I’ll just have to bite that bullet.

There are alternatives, I know. I can hire somebody to format it for me. And I would, except I’m cheap. I won’t pay big bucks for somebody to do something I know I could do myself if I’d just stop whining and get to it. I could take the file to Direct2Digital, which will format the manuscript for me, but they also take a higher cut, and they don’t distribute to as many outlets as Smashwords. I want all the pennies, or as many as I can get away with grabbing. Greedy, cheap and lazy. The manuscript’s not the only thing with issues.

Eventually the greed will probably win, even against the procrastination. It’s just fear anyway, fear of the unknown. Or fear of work. Because in order to master formatting, I’m going to have to work. I’m going to have to do something new. Dear God, I’ll have to learn something.

I don’t know why I’m so scared of this. I did make that earlier, half-assed attempt. Once I got started, the process wasn’t as confusing as I’d feared it would be. It had even begun to make sense. I think it was having to work at something that did me in. Lazy trumps greed, in this case.

Too bad. If I’m going to make it in the world of modern publishing, I should learn as much about the process as possible, so I can do it on my own if I have to. Because I’m also cheap and greedy, I already know I will. I’ll just keep editing while the cheapness and greed beat the laziness into submission. Then I’ll be ready to go.

At one point I was going to self-pub “erotica” (what they’re calling porn these days) on Amazon. I have a finished story I could have experimented with. Never quite made it to the formatting stage. In this case it was more Cheapskate Me than Lazy Me. I didn’t want to pay for a cover. That shouldn’t have stopped me from practicing my formatting skills on the file. I can still do that. I can put off formatting the book by formatting the story instead. Make procrastination work for you!

That’s where my self-publishing career stands at the moment. Lots of intentions, very little forward movement. For now. At the moment I’m in the process of updating the files with all the editorial changes I marked on the printed version. Sure, having a printed version is another form of put-offery. I consider it backup. If the laptop crashes, I’ve still got a copy of the full manuscript, complete with all the changes. Paper rules!

Deep breath. Okay. I’m ready now. Just have to finish the updates. Then read the Smashwords instructions again. Then go to the library to post this blog. Then screw around at the library for a couple of hours. Then watch TV. Don’t worry, I’ll get to it eventually. Trust me.

# # #

I did learn something this week and last, and I have my co-blogger Savanna to thank for it. Being too cheap to hire an editor, I sent the manuscript to the other Shapeshifter Seductions writers for beta-ing. Savanna’s suggestions pointed out more than random typos and shaky sentences. I really did need to put more emotion into the story. All of a sudden, I saw how. Several sentences got reworked to better reflect POV, and one paragraph went from “tell” to “show,” thus improving the story. These are things I’ll have to keep an eye on in the future, if I’m going to edit my own stuff.

Actually, it pays to have several eyes on a “finished” manuscript. People who aren’t as close to the story as you are will spot all the bloopers and blemishes you missed. This is what a good beta or a good editor does. You don’t want the readers doing it. Those are called “sucky reviews.”

So thanks to the other SSS writers, with an extra-special thanks to Savanna on top. You taught the old bitch some new writing tricks. The readers will benefit now, or whenever I get around to learning how to format. Hope you weren’t expecting payment. Like my manuscript, I am a work in progress.

Help Yourself

I have a problem with procrastination. Let’s face it: writing’s hard. I’ll do whatever I can to put it off. The trouble with that is, if I don’t write I have nothing to send out to market, so I’m also putting off getting paid. You want a serious downside to self-employment? Try that.

While wandering the aisles of the local Barnes and Noble (instead of heading home to write) I spotted a self-help book on how to beat procrastination. I picked up a copy, found some public seating, and skimmed for helpful nuggets. (No, I didn’t buy it. No money. I’m a writer, remember?)

I’m glad I saved my money. I’ve got half a dozen self-help books at home, purchased in the days when I had a weekly paycheck. I’ve read others in bookstores and the library. I’m going to help you hang onto your $18.95 and tell you what I’ve learned from them. You can thank me at the end of the blog.

First and foremost, if you’re really determined to own a self-help book, you only need one good one because they all say the same thing, and it’s this: You and you alone are responsible for your life. Well, duh. Accidents do happen, and other people’s decisions do have impact on your life, but by and large it’s you and your choices that got you where you are today. Don’t like your job/house/spouse/whatever? Do something about it. Otherwise you’ll be one of those people I blogged about a couple weeks back, the ones who always bitch about everything but never do squat to fix the problem. Nobody likes them.

That’s it. That’s the gist of every self-help book on the market. From there, it’s just details. Decide what you want. Write down your goals. Work hard. Be nice to other people. Surround yourself with positive people and phase out the whiners and moaners. Get on good terms with your personal deity. Most books will then outline a plan to achieve all this, based on whatever system the author’s touting. If it doesn’t work, it’s your own fault. You didn’t work hard enough. You didn’t stick with it. Buy the author’s other books and try again.

Because that’s the other truth about self-help books. If you’re looking for secrets on how to get rich, and you’re a waitress, secretary, factory worker, department store associate or anyone else earning your wage by the hour, forget it. The money sections of these books aren’t aimed at you. They’re aimed at executives, managers, business professionals and salespeople—those on a salary, or salary plus commission. In short, people more likely to have disposable income, and people therefore more likely to buy books. There’s next to nothing out there for us average schlubs. You should have chosen to go into management or sales. See? It is your fault.

Does all this earnest, upbeat advice even work? The answer is, it depends. The advice is sound, as far as it goes. It helps if you know what you want out of life. Write down your goals, figure out how you can achieve them, and get busy. Make informed choices. Stay positive. All well and good, but because this is real life, you’re going to hit speed bumps. You can’t negotiate a raise if you’re hourly. You’ll just get the same 2% cost of living increase whether you bust your ass or sit on it. Hard work will help you get ahead, but you’re better off kissing up to your boss. If your boss doesn’t like you, you might as well find a new job before he finds an excuse to get rid of you. Or before his boss sells the company, or the work gets shipped overseas. Then you’re all up the creek. Got any positive thoughts about that?

There’s my self-help advice. Take it or leave it. Because that’s the final secret of all self-help books: nothing’s going to work for you unless and until you decide to change. You have to take positive, decisive action. You have to actively work at changing yourself, and it won’t be easy. Sorry. That’s the only way to fix your problems. They rarely clear up on their own. I didn’t apply anything I picked up from the “beat procrastination” book, and I’m still procrastinating. I’m not earning any money, either. See?

Think of this the way you would about a diet. Diet books and self-help books fall under the same category. The same principles apply: there is no magic, quick-fix cure. The only proven, non-surgical way to lose weight is to eat less and exercise. Nothing in the book will help you unless you decide to apply it. And not just for a couple of weeks, either. For good. This is a lifestyle change. The minute you stop, the plan stops working. This is why the majority of Americans are overweight and unsuccessful. Or they could be unsuccessful because they’re overweight. Nobody wants to hire a fat person. But that’s a whole other can of worms.

Hey! There’s my self-help idea. Next time you feel like snacking, picture opening a can and finding it full of writhing maggots. Still hungry? Didn’t think so. I guarantee you’ll lose at least five pounds a week. I should write a diet book, but I’ll probably just put it off.

One Day at a Time

And here we are, at the opening of yet another brand new year. Made your resolutions yet? Broke ‘em already? Welcome to the club. I too was once a part of the resolution crowd. January 1 would find me making lists of long-term goals and plans on how I would achieve them. For instance, if I start right now and lose a mere five pounds a month, by the end of the year I’ll have dropped sixty pounds. And my pants, because they won’t fit me any more. And I’m going to do it, just as soon as I eat that ice cream I bought the other day. I guess I’ll have to exercise now. Too bad it’s too cold to go outside.

This is why I won’t be making long-term resolutions this year. The only thing easier to make than resolutions are the excuses for failing them. The average wait time between the making and the breaking of my New Year’s resolutions is usually about a week. Sometimes a day, if we’re dealing with anything food-related.

For 2015 I’ll be taking a different approach. I’ll be using the addicts’ method and taking my resolutions a day at a time. I’ll be measuring my goals by days and weeks. By the end of January I’ll reassess and see what needs to be done. Then it’s on to February. Lather, rinse, repeat.

At the end of the year I hope to have several more books added to my backlist and maybe a few stories out. A steady income would be nice. I may have to look for a regular job. I’m going to put that one off until April so I won’t have to drive in ice. Big plus for the writing life: you get to work at home. Big minus: the TV and the fridge are sitting right there, calling out to you. Dumping even five pounds a month may turn out to be tougher than I thought.

To help me stay on track, I’ve got one of those desktop-sized calendars with my monthly goals and deadlines on it, propped up where I can’t ignore it. This week I want to finish the first draft of my WIP and start formatting that porn story. By the end of January either one or both should be in submittable form, and I should have a draft of something else under way. That one I want to have ready to sub to a publisher by the end of February. And so forth.

QUICK SIDE NOTE: Office supply departments are getting skimpy in the big stores like WalMart and KMart, so I went to a couple office supply stores to price those big calendars. The cheapest I could find was $8. Others were close to $20. Screw that. I found a large sketch pad at the dollar store and made my own with colored markers. Take that, Office Max!

I’m hoping these deadlines and highly-visible reminders help me deal with my procrastination. Recall, if you will, my methods for making a million dollars: either get a million people to each give you a dollar, or come up with a million items to sell for a dollar each. I’m using a combination of the two. My overall goal is a minimum of twelve books/stories out, one a month, and hope that generates some income. Definitely need to get over the procrastination.

It always helps to have some kind of consequence for missing deadlines. In the working world, it’s called getting canned. For those of us striving to be self-employed, it’s known as homelessness. The money I’ve been living on for the last couple years is starting to run low, so I need to step up my game and get serious about this writing thing. It’s either that or look for a job, and prospects aren’t too numerous in my neck of the woods. I’d move in with and mooch off my brother, but I don’t like my sister-in-law.

Besides, Stray Kitty’s resolution appears to be “eat more.” Half a can for breakfast isn’t enough for him now. He sticks around for seconds. Then he comes back in the afternoon for a snack. Talk about a moocher. Of course he’s a cat, so he’s entitled. So I have to work harder in 2015. I’ve got a mooching stray who won’t even let me pet him to support. It’s like having a kid or a boyfriend, just without all the basketball.

I realize this is Thursday, but I’m typing these words on Tuesday so I can schedule the blog to post New Year’s Day, when the library’s closed. I thought I’d get a jump on the New Year and start the New Week on Sunday, but … well, things got in the way. I’m already running behind. I’ll see about catching up on New Year’s Eve, provided I can stay up until midnight. Maybe I can teach Stray Kitty to type. Make him earn his cat food. There’s a resolution for you. Happy New Year!

Do, or Do Not

Good news for me: the logjam that’s been blocking my writing muscle finally loosened up, and I’m back to working on a book. I don’t want to say any more because I don’t want to jinx it. This particular WIP wasn’t high up on my list, but I know it’s the one. Why? Because my mind has starting supplying me with solutions to the problems that caused me to trunk it in the first place. For instance, I knew there had to be a confrontation between the good guy and the bad guy, but the good guy was physically outclassed. He’d have to outthink his opponent. Earlier this week I figured out how he does it. Now I’ve got ideas for scenes I can use to set up the climactic fight scene while also building the relationship between the characters and furthering the story. Damn, I’m good.

Best of all, an abused animal now gets to take on-screen revenge on the bad guy. That’ll make Savanna happy. Wins all around!

This book is part of our shared universe, so it’ll have to be self-published. That’s not a problem any more. I’ve already practiced formatting, though I didn’t upload. I’m saving that step for the porn. We’ve got two members in the group who do covers, so that’s, um, covered too.

Now all I have to do is type the porn draft into the laptop, format it, come up with a blurb that’s not too dirty, commission a cover, and upload. I’ve kind of been dragging my feet on these small but vital tasks. Procrastinating, in other words. That’s the one thing I’m really good at.

Trouble is, procrastination doesn’t put food on the table or bucks in my wallet. I’m going to have to put off the putting off, get the butt in gear, and actually do something.

This goes back to my mini-lecture of some weeks back, on how to go about getting a million dollars. What I said then still holds true: you have to work. Whether it’s for a paycheck or for your own benefit, eighty hours a week or forty or two, you have to work. It’s better to work smart than work hard, but “work” is still the operative verb in that sentence. Wishing and whining won’t cut it. Action is the only thing that will.

You have to create your product. You have to advertise it. You have to do market research, connect with your customers, find new customers and keep former ones interested. You have to stay alert for trends and changes in the market. If you’re not so good at one of these steps, you’d better find and hire somebody who is. Businesses won’t grow on their own. They have to be nurtured and maintained. To keep them going, you can’t just sit behind a desk and give orders. You have to do.

When you’re a writer, most of this is on you. You can hire an agent to market for you (recommended if you’re aiming for Big 5 publishing), and I suppose you could hire someone to do your promo for you (you think Stephen King ever stops by his own web site?), but most of the other stuff, especially creation of the product, is all in your lap, bunky. No writee, no money. It’s as simple as that.

I know what I need to do to translate my words into money. And I do do these things eventually. I’m still not the best at promo. I need to rectify that. I also need to knock off the put-offery and just sit down and do stuff. Like writing the stories, for starters.

I don’t know what’s holding me back. Maybe I’ve got a subconscious fear of success or something. Maybe I’m just plain lazy. Should I be calling Dr. Phil?

I don’t have much faith in Dr. Phil. Yoda said it better anyway. There is no try. Try is for procrastinators, lazy asses and losers. Do, or do not.

Because doing things is the only way things get done. When things get done and done right, you benefit from it. Your life gets better and you’re happier. You get to buy that car you want, and keep up the rent on your apartment—or even buy a house!—and food shows up on your plate on a regular basis and it ain’t just Ramen noodles, either. I like it when I can eat regular meals, and I enjoy having a car. And the rent is always due. This is what’s known as motivation.

I’m doing the right things, just not often enough. I’m working on fixing that. Starting with me getting back to finishing the draft of that book. I can work on self-pubbing the porn while my deathless prose cools off. I’m going to have at least one new story on the market before October’s over, see if I don’t.

Here’s what I want you folks to do: hold me to that. If I don’t have a draft finished or something up on Amazon by the end of the month, come here and yell at me. Make me feel like a lazy slug so I’ll get angry and do something other than watch TV. In return … well, I really can’t offer anything except something new for you to read. Best I can do. If you want cupcakes, go motivate a baker.

Hmmm … November’s coming up. National Write a Novel in a Month month. Do I dare … ? I’d better think about that one. Really, really hard.

If You're So Smart, Why Aren't You Rich?

Today we wrap up my mini-tutorial on how to make a million dollars. We’ve established there are two basic plans: you get a million people to each give you a dollar, or you create a million items and charge a dollar apiece. Both methods will work, provided you put in the time and effort necessary to make things happen. I’ve already given examples from my personal experience.

Speaking of that personal experience … you’re probably asking yourself right now, “Since she’s writing about this, has it worked for her?”

Welllll …

Here comes the downside to my methods. Every plan has one. Some have several. Will the plans I proposed make you rich? Possibly. Eventually. That’s downside number one: it doesn’t happen immediately. You will make a million dollars, but it’ll be spread out over a number of months, more likely years. Nobody wants to hear that, I know, but that’s how it works. If you want gobs of money right this instant, go play the lottery, or rob a bank.

The biggest drawback to my plans: you will have to work. It takes time, and it takes effort. Sorry, but that’s also part of the deal. The methods don’t work unless you do.

I’ve already alluded to my feelings about hard work: mostly it pays off, but sometimes it doesn’t. The “doesn’t” comes into play when you’re trying to get rich working for other people. It worked for my brother, but the stars were aligned in his favor. That job with the Big Corporation wasn’t his first, by the way. I believe it was his third. It didn’t happen overnight, either. I’d say it took him at least a decade. He was still able to retire at age 50 with his million in the bank. His son, my nephew, was following the same path when the economy tanked. He got laid off. I’ve busted my butt for companies that went belly up, or else sent my job overseas. Google “Jack Kirby,” the man who co-created the Marvel Universe and all those colorful characters like the Avengers, currently making billions for Disney/Marvel. Check out the percentage his estate gets. Hint: it rhymes with “zilch.” (Another hint: if you’re a writer or artist, read those contracts carefully and make sure you retain the rights to what you’ve created. Watch out for “work for hire” clauses.) When you’re an employee, making other people rich, hard work doesn’t always pay off. Assess your situation and act accordingly.

If you’re in business for yourself, hard work is a given. You can’t pawn it off on other people. It’s all on you. You do the legwork, you rake in the bucks. If there were any shortcuts, we’d all have that million in the bank now, right?

Another quick aside: I am aware of that New Agey theory proposed by The Secret: Your mind creates the thoughts that attract what you want. Simply send your thoughts out to the Universe and the Universe will cough up what you ask for. Huh. That sounds easy. Try it. Right now. Say this out loud: “I want a million dollars.” Let me know how it works out, and when.

There's nothing wrong with positive thinking, but I don’t have much faith in this aspect of it. Try this experiment while you’re at it: Stand in the middle of a busy street. Think real hard at the cars barreling toward you. Your thoughts should be powerful enough to shape your reality so you don’t get flattened. Let me know how that one works out.

The rest of us will see the cars bearing down on us and haul ass out of the street. I guarantee that will work. This is the real secret to getting a million dollars: the Universe doesn’t give a crap about proactive wishing. The Universe rewards positive action. Tape this saying up on your wall: “The Lord helps those that help themselves.”

If you want a million dollars, you’re going to have to go out and find those million people with a spare dollar in their pockets, or create a million products and work at selling them. How fast you amass that million will be reflected in the amount of effort you put into it.

Which brings us back to me. What percentage of that million did I earn today?

Um …

Therein lies my problem. I probably shouldn’t be self-employed because I’m really lazy. It takes me forever to write stuff. I think I had two stories out on the market in a single year one time. The other week, instead of writing, I went out and mowed the lawn. I even held off writing this blog, that’s why I’m posting so late. Needless to say, I am not currently a millionaire.

Note the word “currently.”

If you’re a procrastinator, if the thought of hard work makes you shudder, if you’d rather watch reality TV than write (now I’m shuddering), you have my complete understanding, and my sympathy. It’s so easy to put off the actions that will bring in the money. There’s housework, and yard work, and trips to the grocery store, no point in getting started because I’ll just have to stop and make dinner and hey, look, that movie I love is on again, and next thing you know the day’s over and you don’t have any dollars in your wallet. The good news is, you can change your thoughts and your actions. Like getting the million, it’ll take time and it’ll be tough, but it can be done.

To prove it, I'm committing to the challenge. I’m going to put my money where my mouth is and get busy coming up with a million stories to send out to market, in the hopes they net me my million over the next twelve months. It would probably be easier if I was on Facebook and tried connecting with the million people and their dollar bills, but I suck at social media. I may swing in that direction after my fingers fall off. For now, I’m going to concentrate on creating my product, and work hard at writing—and, yes, selling—the best damn stories I’m capable of producing. I figure I’m going to have to sub at least one story a week, but eventually I’ll see a payoff. I’ll give a progress report every couple of weeks. Guess I won’t be watching reality TV any more.

I’d ask you folks to keep me on track, but you’ll all be too busy earning your own million. Don’t forget to send me your dollars. They mount up.

What's in Your Wallet?

I don’t know about you, but here’s what’s in mine: not much, these days. If this keeps up, I might have to start looking for a job.

Here’s the bald truth about writing fiction for a living: it’s damn tough, and there’s no guarantee you’ll make any money, or how much, or when you’ll get it. At least with a “real” job, you get a weekly paycheck. Or biweekly. Unless you’re fired or laid off. Or the company goes under and closes its doors. Or your job gets outsourced to India. All of which has happened to me over the past three decades, with depressing regularity. You can understand my reluctance to put myself through that again. Clearly I’m not very good at doing the employee thing.

So why can’t I make a living as a writer? I don’t want to say it’s because I suck at storytelling. I’m not as good as some, but I know I’m better than others. We’ve all read books we ended up throwing against a wall and wishing we’d spent the money on a decent movie instead. And yet, bad as they are, they got published. By a company that pays advances and sends physical books to brick and mortar stores, so you ended up with something to throw in the first place. I don’t recommend pitching Kindles. Way too expensive.

But before you slammed that book against the wall, before you bought it on impulse at the Kmart because you liked the cover, before some committee convinced another committee to shell out big (or at least medium-sized) bucks for this tripe, somebody had to write it. Somebody applied their butt to a chair for the weeks or months required to string 200+ pages of words together. Maybe not the best possible words, or you wouldn’t have hurled it like that. But the authors sat themselves down for however long it took to get the sucker done, then made a list of best possible markets or agents and kept sending their brainchild out until some publishing house said yes.

And that’s why they have money in their wallet and you don’t. That, and the fact you shelled out $8-$15 for their book. Twice that much if it was hardback, in which case you now have to pay to fix your wall. Think twice about chucking those bloated hardcover epics at drywall. They do damage.

Here’s what us artsy writer types sometimes have trouble grasping: writing is a business. Not just for the publishers, but for us too. When you’re a writer, you’re the whole show: boss, employee, clerical support, bookkeeper, marketing department. If you don’t show up at your desk, Cyndi from the steno pool isn’t going to cover for you. If you opt to watch TV instead of finishing a chapter, that chapter ain’t gonna get writ. It doesn’t get written, you have no product. No product, no subs, no money in your wallet. Got it now?

This is really difficult for us slow writers, who take a month to finish a page. E-publishing and self-pubbing favor the speedy. If you’re prolific, you can earn a pretty penny. If you’re slow … well, maybe you should have a job, or a spouse with a job, or be independently wealthy. You’d better have something in your wallet that’s not dependent upon words strung together.

I haven’t given up just yet. Just the thought of having to hunt for a job in the current economy is enough to get me to park my butt at the keyboard and commit 1000 words a day to the hard drive. Do that every day for a month and you’ve got a 30,000 word novella. If you picked the right 1000 words every day, somebody will pay you money for it. See how easy that is?

You don’t even have to put up with an idiot boss or annoying coworkers. You are the idiot boss and all the annoying coworkers. Didn’t know you were that versatile, did you?

Right now I’m ahead of the game: in spite of all my farting around, I managed to finish a book this year, got it out to market and had it accepted. I’m working on the edits now. If I’d been faster I could have had a couple other things finished and out working for me by now. Maybe I’ll pull a James Patterson or Tom Clancy and hire other writers with empty wallets to write my books for me. Instead of being Stephen King, I can be Donald Trump. YOU’RE FIRED! Hey, that does have a nice ring to it.

Claim Jumping

I’m a slow writer. I’ve never denied it. Even when I have plenty of time I can always find something else to do other than commit words onto paper/screen. If you look in the dictionary under “Procrastination,” there’s a picture of me on the couch watching TV. The Encyclopedia Britannica has a picture of me doing housework. You get the idea.

This goofing off has cost me. I don’t deny that either. I could probably have a pretty good career going by now if I didn’t fart around so much. I’ve noticed the most successful ebook writers have a new release every month. One had a new book out roughly every two weeks for awhile. I haven’t seen any recent releases from her. Maybe she burned out. Maybe she’s watching TV. I tell myself she made so much money she can slow down and sit in a beach chair at the shore or whatever her ultimate goal was. It gives me something to shoot for.

One weird result of my pokey pace is having other writers come out with my ideas while I’m still writing the book. For instance, my current WIP—which is almost finished, hooray!—is a futuristic set on an alien planet where shapeshifters are the ruling class. A bored woman of royal lineage visits the local slave market and buys two captive alien men as “pets.” Sex and adventures ensue. I asked around, and I’ve been told slave romances, while popular at one time, are pretty scarce these days. So I dawdled over the writing, figuring I’d be okay.

That is, until I was cruising around the Siren/Bookstrand site and discovered Stormy Glenn’s latest bestseller is a futuristic set on an alien planet where a pirate captain visits the local slave market and buys a captive alien man as a “pet.” Sex and adventures ensue.

Oh shit.

It’s not as bad as it looks. Stormy’s book is M/M. Mine’s a ménage and includes a woman. Technically it should probably be F/M/M because she’s the one in charge (to start with), but it’ll probably end up M/F/M or M/M/F because I don’t think Siren has a F/M/M category. I’m not sure how readers feel about the woman being the dominant partner. Whatever. Hers is guys and mine’s got a girl in it. Hers has a human from Earth as the “pet.” None of my characters are human and they’ve never heard of Earth. My characters are shapeshifters. From the blurb I’ve deduced there’s a bad guy involved in Stormy’s book. Mine has a bad guy too, and he’s intent on marrying the woman so he can get his hands on her fortune. I don’t think that plot point holds true in the other book.

I don’t hold anything against Stormy Glenn. This is in no way a case of plagiarism. I’ve never met, spoken to, or even exchanged emails with Stormy Glenn. We just happened to have the same basic idea at the same time. Great minds thinking alike. It’s an unfortunate coincidence—unfortunate for me. Now, when my book finally makes its debut, I’ll look like I ripped her off.

This is my own damn fault. If I’d spent as much time writing as I do plopped on the couch watching game shows, I’d have finished my book months ago and it would be out by now. Then the readers could have a field day arguing who stole from who, when in truth neither of us stole anything from the other. It was just one of those things.

This isn’t the first time Stormy got the jump on me because I was dragging my feet. My book Belonging was originally titled Blood Lust. Then, right on the brink of the final draft, I discovered Stormy had just released a book called—well, you guessed it. I had to scramble to come up with a new title. Actually, Belonging worked better, so I have Stormy to thank for that. I imagine hers was also M/M with vampires. I’ve pretty much blocked it out of my mind.

The only thing I can do to avoid this in the future is give up the goofing off, write like hell, and get the stories out so fast nobody will be able to catch up with me, let alone use the same ideas floating around in the aether. Then I can first on the block with the title or plot or whatever, and other writers can curse my name in their blogs. That’s what procrastination gets you, folks. Learn from my mistakes.

Spring Thaw

Finally, it’s spring! Theoretically. This week we had a snowstorm, icy roads and record low overnight temps. It’s supposed to nudge into the 60s this weekend, so spring’s at least trying to get here.

The Susquehanna River’s not the only thing that’s finally thawing out. The writer’s block that’s been with me for most of last year is breaking up at last. Remember those three-four stories I was bouncing around between? One of them finally stuck. I’ve been working on it steadily and inspiration is starting to pick up speed. If I’m not careful, I could have it done soon. Then it’s rewrite, polish and bam! I’ll have a finished manuscript to send out. The last time that happened was about a year ago. For those of you wanting a writing career, here’s a hint: you have to write, and you have send stuff out. Good stuff. Repeatedly, and as often as possible. Sorry, but that’s the only way to do it.

I’m not going to say which story it is because I don’t want to jinx it. Bits of it have appeared here and on my other blog as free reads. Have fun guessing.

What did I learn about beating writer’s block? Sadly, not much of anything. I never stopped writing entirely. I continued to write something every day, even if it was only a paragraph. I just didn’t finish anything. None of the ideas logjammed in my head grabbed hold and demanded to be written. I even entered a writing contest with deadlines in the hopes that would force me to finish something. That didn’t work either. Luckily I didn’t get anywhere in the contest, so it didn’t matter anyway. Here’s something I did learn: when you force yourself to write a book, that book will end up crap. That manuscript, or as much as I completed of it, has joined my other abandoned books and false starts in the closet, where it will sit until inspiration rears its head again.

Because that’s the beauty of writing. Some of these things never actually die. They just go dormant, like those flower bulbs you planted last fall. (We’re swinging back into the spring analogy here. Bear with me.) Then, when it warms up and the ground thaws out, they break through the soil, reach for the sun and yell, “Write me!” That was the case with my current WIP. It started out shaky, went cold for a while, then had an unexpected resurgence. Now it looks like I could actually finish it. Take that, writer’s block!

Sure, you’re bound to reap a weed or two, but some of these stories will come back to life and bloom into something beautiful. It all depends on the plant food, not to mention fertilizer. Yes, folks, sometimes writing requires mounds and mounds of shit.

Sorry. It’s been a brutal winter.

What I meant to say is, don’t give up. Not on writing, and not on what you write. Stories hit plot snags or go cold. Sometimes they die. Sometimes the wall slams down. If you’re serious about being a writer, you just have to plow on through. Eventually the temperatures rise, the sun climbs higher in the sky and the ice on the river breaks up. Remember, spring also brings floods. Hope your typing fingers can keep up.

Here’s a legitimate tip, a little game I’ve been playing to keep me going and help shake the ideas loose. I keep track of my daily page count on a calendar, hung up on the wall where I can see it. Every day I try to match or surpass the page count from the previous week. The challenge keeps me working, and guarantees I’ll write something on any given day. Even a single paragraph is progress.

Granted, sometimes it’s hard to even match when I’m writing longhand. Once I start typing up the handwritten pages, watch those page counts soar!

Now all I need to deal with are my procrastination issues. For instance, I just wrote this blog instead of working on the story. Okay, I’m done with this excuse. Onward and upward!

Catching My Breath

Good day, eh? And welcome to the Great White Northeast. This week we’re enjoying a break in the action, with temps in the 40s and set to hit 50 this weekend. Now we’re keeping an eye on the rivers and streams because if all that snow melts too fast we could be stuck with flooding. If it’s not one thing …

This warm-up is only temporary, alas. Another blast of cold air is headed our way, and we could be entering March on waves of more of the white stuff. March isn’t coming in like a lion; this year it’s a snow leopard. If it doesn’t warm up soon we’ll still be skiing in June. Dog sleds, anybody?

For those ticked off at the meteorologists forecasting all this crap, take heart: God is just. The Lancaster TV station had to evacuate when the weight of the snow caused their studio’s roof to collapse. Nobody was hurt, but they were off the air for two days. They were only running the Olympics anyway. Philadelphia’s NBC affiliate picked up the slack until Channel 8 got the roof fixed. Bet they can’t wait for spring either.

# # #

Last week, while stocking my fridge in anticipation of the nor’easter, I got wondering what I’d pick for my last meal if I knew for sure the world was ending. Pizza? Spaghetti? Beef and broccoli? There’s so much good stuff out there. After much deliberation, I decided I’d cheat and hit a buffet, probably Chinese. We’ve got a really great Chinese buffet out on Route 30 with a varied menu and delicious food. They even have a few American items so little kids (and their parents) intimidated by foreign foods don’t have to go hungry. I doubt if I’d try sushi, though. Why face Armageddon eating something I’m not even sure I’d like? The whole point is to go out on a high note, which is why I’d probably pick up a Snickers bar or Reese’s on the way home. Then a cup of tea and something junky as the lights go out. That’s how I want to go to my reward.

Besides, with a buffet you don’t have to cook. There’s nothing worse than going to your doom with dirty dishes in the sink. An unmade bed or dirty toilet, eh. I can die with a messy toilet on my conscience. Chances are excellent I’ll be on the toilet when the end arrives. It all depends on what and how much I eat.

# # #

And yes, Stray Kitty’s still kicking. Those of us on the block putting plates out have kept him and the neighborhood’s other strays fed through every storm. SK’s even gotten fat. And spoiled. He’ll sit and wait for the moist stuff out of the can even when there’s dry food in the bowl. I hate to put out canned stuff in this weather because it’s wet and therefore freezes. SK doesn’t like leftovers, either. Luckily for my wallet, there’s a big gray tabby from across the street who’s still desperate enough to eat anything. He shows up every now and then and cleans out the bowl.

You’d think a cat living out on the streets wouldn’t be so picky. Maybe we ought to name him Morris.

# # #

I’m still struggling with a massive case of writer’s block, but I’ve managed to make some progress. I’ve got my list of possibles narrowed down to three. Mostly I’ve been working on the fourth one, the free read I’m posting over on Shapeshifter Seductions (www.shapeshifterseductions.blogspot.com). I’m about three chapters ahead on that one. Too bad I don’t consider my blog posts as part of my daily writing requirements. If anybody has any tricks for dealing with procrastination, please let me know. I’ve already stopped doing housework.

# # #

I have one other thing to look forward to besides spring. Supernatural's been renewed for a tenth season. Another year of Sam and Dean! And Cas? Dunno yet. I'll keep watching the spoiler sites and let you know when I hear something.

Still no female regulars on that show, but I don't care. A pretty girl would just eat up screen time better used on the pretty boys. Yes, I'm shallow. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to eat Chinese.

Putoffery

If you’ve been watching the national news, you know the Northeast got socked with snow and a blast of arctic air on Tuesday. My part of Pennsylvania got off easy, all things considered. We got around 5-6 inches, in contrast to the foot or so Philadelphia picked up. We also had a lull in the action Tuesday afternoon, so the neighborhood turned out and dug out the cars, driveways and sidewalks before the storm started up again. And it was the light, fluffy stuff, easy to shovel without any moisture weighing it down. Come Wednesday morning I only had to shovel about an inch off the walk, brush off the car, and let direct sunlight handle the rest.

However, by Wednesday morning temperatures had plummeted to around 1 degree, with sub-zero wind chills. Good thing I got the bulk of the shoveling done the day before. And the trick with panty hose under the pants does work. Wish I’d had warmer gloves, though. By the time I was finished my fingers ached like hell, and I wasn’t even out there a half hour. Some TV meteorologist reported it’s warmer in Siberia than it is here in the Northeast. Thanks. I don’t find that comforting.

What all this means is that I was cut off from the Internet on Tuesday. The library never opened, and I wasn’t going to risk my life and my car to slide over to McDonald’s just to check my email. For all I know, McDonald’s was closed too, though I doubt it. Who’d go out in a snowstorm for a Big Mac and fries? Y’know, you’d be surprised. There are people who see snow and ice and think, “I need (fill in the blank). Better go get some.” Any store that’s operating will have customers. So I’ll bet if McDonald’s was open, they did a brisk business. I don’t even want to think about the WalMart.

What’s this got to do with anything? Well, I had no Internet because I never bothered to get home WiFi. I thought about signing onto my cable TV provider’s program back around the beginning of December, but kept putting it off. I didn’t really want to spend the money. I can get Internet free at the library, McDonald’s, and a couple other local places. The last couple years we’ve had mild winters and getting around wasn’t a problem. And so forth. And that’s what led to Tuesday and me stuck in the house and cut off from all social media.

This isn’t the first time this winter I’ve run into this, either. I’ve gone out in single-digit temps and braved icy roads and been confronted with a closed library and been forced to post (and therefore write) blogs the day before because of an onerous forecast. All this could have been avoided if I’d just sucked it up and plunked down my money and let Blue Ridge hook me up to the aether so I can send emails and watch gay porn (for M/M research, of course) in the comfort of my own home. Oh, and access my publisher’s web site, which the library’s content filter won’t let me do any more. Hell, if I stock up enough provisions, I wouldn’t even have to leave the house for weeks on end. Welcome to modern social interaction.

(Oh geez. Just had a flash of me holed up in my bedroom hunched over the laptop and muttering, “My precious.” Ewwwwwww.)

But I didn’t bother to get WiFi when I could have, and now I’m paying the price. At least I get fresh air once a day. Frigid, but fresh.

# # #

So what did I do during the storm, stuck in the house all day? I’d like to say I wrote, but we all know better. Heavy snow days just seem to demand you curl up in bed with a good book or two. Which is what happened. When I got tired of reading I’d switch on the TV and see how many inches had fallen so far and how cold it was getting, then cruise channels looking for interesting reruns. There is nothing on TV during the day. Trust me. I watched it anyway.

Why not write? I had 16 hours of free time, with nothing better to do except shovel. I’ve got 3-4 stories I could work on. I had the laptop and the notebooks out a couple times but got stuck. Could be my brain froze in the cold. Or maybe, like with the Internet, I just figured I’d put it off.

Procrastination is a huge problem with me, especially when it comes to writing. I don’t know if I can rightly call it a block, because I make it a point to write something every day. Maybe it’s my inspirational logjam again. I’ve got four ideas jostling for position in my head, with none rising above the others. It’s easier just to avoid the whole thing and see what’s on cable for a few hours. This is not how one makes a living as a professional writer.

I think I’ll try putting off procrastinating. Let’s see if that does any good.

For those following the saga of Stray Kitty, he’s fine. He shows up in the morning for his breakfast no matter what the weather’s like. He can’t afford to put anything off because if he does, he’ll starve. Wonder if I can train him to type?

Hopscotch

Talk about your feast or famine. I can go for weeks with no idea what I want to write. Other times I’m inundated with inspiration and have to flip a coin to decide which WIP to work on. This is one of those latter situations.

I started the new year working on a ménage. Then, for whatever reason, I hauled an abandoned M/F out of the trunk and went back to work on that. I think that happened because of our New Year’s blog hop on Shapeshifter Seductions (www.shapeshifterseductions.blogspot.com). We do near-daily shapeshifter flash scenes over there, and sometimes continued stories. People stop by our blog hops, read the flash scenes, and want to buy the books, which don’t exist. The book I rescued from the closet is a Talbot’s Peak story. The ménage isn’t, although the flash scene that sparked it appeared on the blog. Yes, this gets confusing.

Normally I can only work on one WIP at a time. I’ve tried to work on two, with mixed results. I usually end up abandoning one story for another. When it comes to writing, I can’t multitask. That’s just how my brain is wired.

For some reason I thought maybe this time would be different, and I could write both the ménage and the Talbot’s Peak story simultaneously. Sounds doable, in theory. Write one story until I hit a wall, then switch over to the other. It’s all progress, right?

Here’s where the fun begins. My Monday blog on SSS may have sparked a story. As I was drafting it on Sunday I started getting ideas. A plot began to form. A character from a one-off flash from two years back resurfaced as a bad guy. A sidekick character from another abandoned book (which grew out of a series of SSS flash scenes) took center stage as the hero. Witty banter is exchanged. That always sucks me in.

What do I do now? I’m already writing two different stories. Do I let those sit and chase this new one? Dare I try to pile on a third? Like that isn’t bad enough, I pulled out the abandoned chapters my latest hero originally appeared in. There’s still something there. It could be salvaged. That’s four. Then there’s the M/M I was working on before the ménage hit, but that one’s currently comatose so I don’t have to worry about it.

I don’t even have to ask myself why I never get anything done. Adult ADD much?

So that’s where I currently stand. I’ve got a steamy ménage in the works, a Talbot’s Peak story to capitalize on our blog’s readership, a semi-story that might develop into something, and a moldy oldie that’s raised its head again. Which is better: jump around, or pick one and focus on it?

This would all be so much easier if my brain would cooperate. When I’m totally into a story it’s all I can think about. Writing one book at a time is no problem then. The story I’ve fixated on is the only one I can write. That’s not the case here. All three (maybe four) are nipping at me, but none has really sunk its teeth in yet.

My marketing side says concentrate on at least one of the Talbot’s Peak books. We have readers. There’s a demand. I just have to supply something. Like I said, if I hit a wall on one story I can switch to another. It’s like when I go on those aimless Sunday drives. Pick a road at random and follow it. Sooner or later I have to end up somewhere.

That’s the biggest advantage of scattershot writing to us lazy, procrastinating types. I get to avoid completing a book (or four, in this case) while still appearing to be busy as heck.

Stephen King never has this problem. He once announced his retirement, then promptly wrote two books at once (Dolores Claiborne and Gerald’s Game). How the hell does he do that? I hope the booze-and-pill addiction wasn’t involved. There’s only so much caffeine I can drink.

I suppose I could put it up to a vote, but I don't think that will help. The second I pick a target, I just know something totally new will hit and I’ll go chasing after it. Or one of my closet cases will resurrect itself. Or I’ll decide to switch genres again, just for the change of pace. I could always give up writing and get a job, but I’d be bored in a week. One thing about writing as a profession, it’s always full of surprises.

Okay, the blog’s done. I’m going to go home now and write something. Just don’t ask me what.

Excuse #514

I had a topic for a post today, but what with one thing and the other--oh hell. The truth is, I just lazed off today. I didn't write anything. I just kind of piddled around the house. I think I mean "fiddled." Yeah. Fiddled around. Piddled makes it sound like I haven't been housebroken. As you can see, the writing machine definitely needs a tune up.

I definitely have a problem with procrastination when it comes to the writing. Call it writer's block, call it avoidance, call it laziness, which is my label for it. The upshot is, you ain't getting a blog today. You're getting me rambling along for a couple of hundred words on whatever hits me as my fingers move. Feel free to skim. Nothing of earth-shaking importance will be imparted herein today.

Don't panic, I'm not sick. It's nothing physical. Just a case of the ol' don't feel like its. At least for this one I can do stream of consciousness and call it a blog. You should see the hair-pulling that goes on when I have to produce a flash scene for Shapeshifter Seductions and the creative well has run dry.

How can you tell when I'm on a block or just don't feel like writing? Take a look at my house. It'll be clean. When I don't want to write, I put it off by doing housework. The other day I spray-cleaned the kitchen counters and scrubbed the accumulated grease spatter off the side of the fridge. I filled 10 bags with raked leaves for pickup and gave the lawn one final mow for the season. I'm going to have to take the mower out and get the blades sharpened for spring. Maybe that's what I'll do instead of writing next week's blog.

There's also the allure of cable TV and all its delightfully trashy reality shows. Between Duck Dynasty and Call of the Wildman, I expect the History Channel to change its name to Your Cable Redneck Station any day now. Instead of writing first thing in the morning, I've been getting up to watch the Buffy reruns on FX. This morning Spike got his soul back and Xander saved the world. Ah, Spike. Now I remember why I loved him so much, the surly, amoral bastard.

Oh, and for those worried about the stray cat situation, Momma and her kittens have been relocated to a local Amish farm, where they'll have a warm barn to sleep in and all the rodents they can chase. Farm cats are working cats, so they won't be bored.

Okay, that looks like sufficient verbiage. Back to writing avoidance. I've started rereading Stephen King's It. Sucker clocks in at over 1000 pages, small type. That ought to keep me occupied for a couple of weeks at least.

Worth the Wait?

After yapping about the joys of procrastination last week, I’m going to do a 180 in regards to inspiration. Namely, should you wait for inspiration to hit, or just plow ahead and hope for the best?

Now, waiting for inspiration is one of the best ways there is to ensure you never get anything done. If you decide to put off writing until you feel inspired, I can almost guarantee your muse will pick that moment to go on an extended vacation. I don’t know about you, but for me the ideas tend to hit while I’m hip-deep in a sticky plotline, slogging my way from scene to scene without benefit of a map. I suppose I could whip up an outline first, but that would mean I know where I’m going, and where’s the fun in that? Must be a pantser thing.

I have had those burst-of-light moments all writers dream of and pray for. Full plots have hit me while I’m out driving, and me without a notebook on the passenger seat. Some writer I am. I once had a character’s entire backstory come to me while I was vacuuming. I’ve heard some writers literally dream up their plots (famous example: R. L. Stevenson’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde). Now that’s convenience plus. Mr. Subconscious does all the work while you’re snoring away. In a perfect world, it would happen like that all the time.

Sadly, that’s not the case with me. If I waited for inspiration to hit before I started writing, I’d never start writing. For me, the only way to get the juices flowing is to dive in and start committing words to the paper or the screen. Eventually, some word or phrase will spark a useable idea. It may have nothing at all to do with what I’m working on, but that’s okay. I can either jot it down and save it for later, or switch over to the new track and see where the train takes me. Either way, I get words written and can stave off the guilt for another few hours. Plus it diverts me off whatever I started with, thus satisfying the procrastination need. Winning all around.

I had it happen to me last week. I was working on one of the three stories I’m jumping around between. The hero abandoned his ranch and is living in a cave/den up in the mountains (he’s a werecougar, so it’s not as bad as it sounds). Why is he out there? I knew he had a wife or a girlfriend or something, and something happened to her, but not what. Did she leave him? Did she die from Cliché Writer’s Disease? I had no idea, and was looking forward to this lack of knowledge to bring my efforts to a halt before I got too far in. Until that moment happened, though, I struggled gamely on, writing the parts I did know, like him finding the Bengal tiger girl and hiding her from the abusive asshat she’s been promised to. That’s just plot. You can do plot on autopilot.

Then he went off to fight the tigers and left her to wander around the den. In search of clothing (shifters come off their animal forms nekkid), she pokes around the bedroom and finds a trunk full of blankets and sheets, including a lovely set of satin sheets still in the packaging, never opened. That came as a surprise to both of us. I didn’t know they were in there until she opened the trunk, any more than she did. What’s the story here?

Here’s the story, and here’s where inspiration unexpectedly kicked in. Rick was married to a jaguar shifter. Her brother, the controlling type, didn’t approve. One day, while Rick was out getting supplies, her brother showed up at the house. He murdered his sister and burned the house to cover his tracks. Rick came home to a smoldering ruin and a dead wife. (And a dying brother-in-law. Idjit got caught in his own fire. Served him right.) Unable to bring himself to rebuild, he took off into the mountains and went cougar for a while. Now he’s living up there and defending his turf with a vengeance, the way he failed to the first time.

The sheets? Those were a surprise gift for his wife. All he had left after the fire was whatever he’d had with him in his truck. He kept the sheets but never used them. They’re his only reminder of her.

At some point Bari the Bengal tigress is going to use them to fashion a sari, to surprise and maybe tempt the man who saved her. Rick’s going to come home and find this girl he’s falling in love with wrapped in the sheets he bought for his murdered wife. Can’t wait to get to that scene.

All because I had her open a trunk, and she found something I hadn’t planned on. That’s what inspiration can do for you.

None of this would have happened if I hadn’t been writing to begin with. If I’d waited for inspiration to solve all my problems, I’d probably be watching TV right now. Inspiration did hit, but I had to kick-start it. That’s how it works for me. If this is how it works for you, sorry. There’s no other way around it. You’re just going to have to write.

Look on the bright side. Once you start writing and inspiration starts igniting all those plot and character ideas, you’ll have something tangible you can put off. Things do tend to work out.

Advanced Procrastination

My brain is truly incredible. No matter how much I want to get things done, it can figure out ways for me to screw off while still making it look like I’m busy as hell to the outside world. This is a skill often perfected by the average office worker, but it can also apply to writing. In my case, it applies with a vengeance.

As mentioned last week, I decided to take a sporadic serial book I’d been posting as separate blogs and turn it into an actual book with an eye on eventual submission. Things went fine for the first couple chapters. No duh; I’d already written those. I just had to expand them a bit here and there. The forward momentum’s slowed down some because now I’ve burned through those first pre-written chapters and am forging ahead into unknown territory. I forgot I’d need a plot in order to proceed. Two plots, because my FMC is writing a book and I’m including excerpts from it. This leads to long stretches of staring into the distance and cursing a blank screen.

Then something else cropped up. As also mentioned last week, I needed to add a bad guy to my book in order to introduce conflict. My chosen bad guy comes from a large family. At one point he ruminates on how good his one brother was at stalking innocent women, and what a pity he’s not around anymore. Bored with his sedentary office job and bereft of his stalky brother, he decides to cozy up to the FMC himself. The plot proceeds from there.

But—what about Stalky? What happened to him? That’s another story, one I also started writing on the blog but then abandoned. So I resurrected that one, just in case anybody reading the first story wants to know about Stalky Brother. After I reworked the first two blogs I hit the same wall on the new story. Now I’m writing two books at once, feeling my way as I go.

Also on my plate is the M/M dragon story, which has sputtered to a halt again, even though I have ideas on where it’s headed. I haven’t quite abandoned that one yet. If need be, I can switch back to that one if the other two give me grief.

That’s three different irons in the fire at once. Sure looks like I’m industrious, doesn’t it? Guess again. It’s smoke and mirrors. This is procrastination at its put-it-off best.

How so? Well, look. Instead of focusing on one story, which is how I usually work, I’ve got my energies spread out over three, and none are really going anywhere. I write maybe a few hundred words on one and then I hit a wall. So I switch off and the same thing happens, round and round and round. In this manner I can write all day and look busy as hell and still get nothing finished. This is how we screw off in the big leagues.

There’s one little flaw in this theory. Even if I only write a hundred words a day per story, that’s still a hundred words of progress. Sooner or later, one or two or all three of them will get finished. What do I do to screw off then?

Easy. Edit and polish. Rewrites. Research. There’s a whole slew of things I can do that don’t involve actual writing. In a pinch I could even do housework, though I leave that as a last resort.

Right now I’m putting off “real” writing by writing this blog instead. Then I’m going to go mow the lawn. After that, I’ll need to take a shower. Then lunch. Then a trip to the library. That’s half the day shot right there. Watch and learn, kiddies, watch and learn.

If I mess up and do finish one of my WIPs, I’ve got a pile of abandoned stories and half-baked ideas in the closet. I could go a whole week just doing inventory. I’ll try to keep that in mind.

There are writers out there who average a completed book in a month or less. Clearly they’re doing it wrong. In advanced procrastination a short story takes six months at the least to complete. A thousand-page fantasy novel, done right, could take you a lifetime. Maybe that’s how George R. R. Martin is working. Study the man; he’s a master.

If you’re going to put things off, I suggest you start slow. Read a lot and call it research. Hang out with your friends. Not only is it much-needed social interaction, you might get character ideas. Cable TV is a blessing to us lazy types. As I mentioned before, there’s always housework and yard work if you find yourself in a productive bind. If you think you’re in danger of finishing something, just start something else. You can go indefinitely without wrapping up a story. It’s that simple!

Need inspiration? Study the examples of our friends the publishers. They sure do take their sweet time doling out advances and royalties. And acceptances? One author on a writers’ forum told of an SF publisher who held their manuscript for ten years without giving a yea or nay. The writer finally withdrew it. Now that’s professional-level procrastination!

Drat, I’m done with this. Now I’ll have to work on something else. Well, the lawn ain’t gonna mow itself.

One of Those Days

You're all writers out there, you'll understand. Y'ever have one of those days when all the words just sit in your head and refuse to get out of bed and arrange themselves on the page? When you stare at the blank page or the blank screen for so long you start to imagine a tongue razzing back at you? Or maybe it's been hot for two months straight and you're just feeling lazy and even though you've got a blog due it's not like you're on a deadline or getting paid for it or anything and it's just so much easier to blow it off than to wrack your tired brain. You know, a day like that?

Today is mine.

Actually, I've been having whole weeks like that lately. Maybe it's the heat. Maybe it's a form of stage fright. Maybe I just need a break. I made a vow to myself to write something every day and I've kept it going for four years now. Some days it's page upon page of new stuff. Some days it's a paragraph or two of drivel that I spew onto the page right before midnight. There are days when I look at the laptop or the spiral notes and pen and go, "Screw you." Or turn on the TV. Today is one of those nah, don't think so days.

The head knows this is wrong. The head knows when you work for yourself and you blow off a work day, you've got a lousy boss with a jerk employee. What if I'm out taking a walk tomorrow and my hands get crushed by a falling piano and I can never type again? What will I do then? Okay, yeah, go on disability and get some of that voice-activated software. Or learn to type with my feet. It's been done before, by others. If you're really a writer, nothing will stop you from writing. Except when you just don't feel like it.

I hear you Dr. Phils out there. "You lack motivation." "You need to ask yourself what you really want out of life." "What if you needed an operation to save your life and the doctor decided he didn't feel like operating?" "If all your friends jumped off a cliff, would you jump off too?" "When are you going to clean your room?" Sorry, Dr. Phil morphed into Mom there for a minute. The point is, the voice in my head has been yelling that and a lot more (and a lot more profane) at me for quite a while now, and it's not doing squat. I don't feel like writing today, and I know what the consequences are. And yes, it IS working for me, Dr. Phil, so go back to counseling the alcoholic mom with the drug-addict daughter who married the biker and had three kids and they're all living with you in the trailer. I'll be just fine.

I go through this a lot. It passes. I'll go for a bike ride, eat green leafy vegetables, and wait for the humidity to drop. Eventually this will pass and I'll start pounding out the pages again. Eventually that will pass and I'll laze off for another couple weeks. It's a vicious cycle, but it's part of my routine. Eventually things get done.

As an apology for this rambling, pointless blog, here are a couple pics of

my favorite TV actors. Just forget about these words and look at the pretty men. Aren't they nice? I should write a story with them in it. Oh wait, I was. I should get back to it, sooner or later. Wonder what's on TV?

I'd Rather Be ...

Let’s face it—writing is hard. That’s why I avoid it whenever possible. It’s amazing how the most boring, horrible tasks magically become alluring when it’s a choice between them and sweating blood over a notebook or a keyboard.

Here’s my typical writing day: get up, have my morning tea, write a couple of sentences or maybe a paragraph, and then do one of the following: Laundry, housecleaning, dishes, shopping, read, watch TV, play computer games, exercise (only as a last resort), visit the library, eat something, drive over to the grocery store to get more stuff to eat, yard work, clean out drawers … well, you get the idea.

Grocery shopping is a wonderful time-waster. There are any number of stores I can visit and poke around in for at least an hour. Then I come home with junk food, which I can munch on while watching TV. See how it all ties together?

For blowing off an afternoon, you can’t beat the library. I don’t have Internet access at home, which is a good thing because if I did I’d probably never leave the house. Once on the Net I can do an endless circle of checking email, checking blogs, reading posts on my favorite writing forum, check my sales numbers, read fan fiction, read excerpts from other writers’ books and call it research, look up weird stuff on Google and call that research, watch stuff on YouTube, and so on yea unto infinity. When I get bored with the Net I go in and read the paper and sometimes browse the shelves. Or I can bring home a flick or TV series on disk, just in case there’s nothing on any of my 80 cable channels.

I know a writer who actually goes to the library to work. Takes all kinds, I suppose.

This is why it takes me forever to get a story done. I could finish a 90,000 word novel in a month if I didn’t fart around all the time. Sooner or later, though, even procrastination loses its appeal. I get so bored I finally go back to writing. That lasts for about a page or two, long enough to remind me just how difficult writing really is. Then it’s back to the TV to see what else is on. After about six months of this, I accidently finish something and end up sending it out. Then I go through the whole twisted process again.

I understand I’m not getting any younger, and I’m wasting a truckload of valuable time on stuff that doesn’t matter. I’m trying to readjust my bad habits and become more productive. But hey, at least I’m good at something. I may not be the world’s best writer, but I’ll bet I’m in the top ten when it comes to procrastination.

On some level I really do want to be a writer. If I didn’t, I’d go out and look for a job.

There, just blew off about fifteen minutes coming up with this blog. I should go write something now. Or I could draft another blog. Or see what’s on TV. Or play computer solitaire. And how is your day going?