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Being Busy, the art of Tinkering, and Screaming

I came across this post from 2012 and repeat it here now almost word for word as I wrote it then. This year is different. I am writing. Have been doing lots of editing and I’ve more of both ahead of me. I’ve not done anywhere near enough promotion and those ‘life’ annoyances are different, but still very prevalent, maybe more so. Part of me wants to sum up the entire post into a single sentence: I’m a writer and I’m forever busy:

A friend sent me a text last night: “I hope the writing is going well.” I had to reply that I’m not writing. I haven’t been for… well, I’m not sure. Several days, maybe three or four weeks, and it’s annoying me. I’ve found a moment here and there to ‘tinker’ but not to write, although that’s not entirely true either.

I’ve ‘tinkered’ with a bit of story, but not had time to sit down and truly write, so I’ve hardly written a word. On the other hand, I’ve written plenty. Had edits. I’ve written long-overdue emails. I’ve three works out in December so have written blurbs and promo, and typed my book details everywhere I can think of, and written blog posts for places I’m hoping to show up at pontificating about my books or the writing process that created them for anyone who has asked me, or cares to read them. And sometimes just to say hi — to connect with other writers and readers and thank them for their support, understanding, and lovely words and messages.

This is another side of ‘writing’ and I’ve had lots of that to be going on with, but I’ve also spent some time out to attend to daily ‘life’. Much as I’d like to claim otherwise, we all have them, these daily lives, and maybe that’s a good thing to keep a person grounded. I’ve a relative in the hospital, the extension roof sprung a leak, and I’ve done some shopping, some of which I can’t avoid as we head towards Christmas. There’s the Christmas run of presents to attend to, and I have parcels to pack up, post off, or deliver. I have cards to write, and a yearly letter to put together for those I have and haven’t neglected equally — either way, it will be a chance for them to catch up on what is happening at ‘our house’.

I’m — deep breath — busy, but in that, I can’t say this time is all that different from any other time. I’m always busy, because when I’ve ticked off all the things on my current to-do list, there will be another one to attend to, and another one, and another after that. It doesn’t stop. It’s part of writing, living this double life, and sure, sometimes it’s part of any normal life, too, but having all this going on occasionally means I procrastinate and tinker a bit with something trivial because it stops me from screaming aloud, which will only earn me strange looks and speculative whispers. And if there ever should be a time when I’m not busy — as if that’s going to happen — I’ll still be occupied because what writers do when they’re not busy is get busy writing. See how that works?

Still, I’m getting antsy and I’m longing for the moment — and it will arrive this week — when I sit down and begin work on something. It may be something that needs editing — it may be old or new, may require a complete re-write, or may be ticking over quietly in a dormant brain cell for now, but I’ve reached a point where if I don’t write ‘story’ it’s quite possible you’ll hear me screaming.

The Seeker

To start with a summation, I’ll say this book (by Andy Frankham-Allen) is absorbing and satisfying. Initially, I didn’t feel that this was going to be the case. At the risk of the author’s wrath, I confess it took me more than a few pages to get into this story. Not that my attention wandered; I simply didn’t find it gripping, but I quickly accepted I probably opened the pages with more than a little bias, and the fault lies with me, not the writer. Knowing the author’s style, my already active imagination worked overtime with anticipation, for I’ve been waiting for this book for more than a little while. The pace at the start was steady, but a little slower than I was expecting. However, that’s my one and only negative, and it’s a small one. I found the book increasingly absorbing.

I should say I’m going to be sharing a publisher with the author and our paths have crossed in writing circles enough to call each other friend. After reading The Seeker, we eventually wrote a book together for the series Space 1889. It says a lot of Andy’s tenacity that he talked me into co-authoring. However, if a writing acquaintance pens a book that I dislike, I simply never review it.

The Seeker is book one of a planned four in The Garden series.

Absorbing and satisfying is the only description that fits the gradual expansion that made every distraction in my life irritating. By the time I reached halfway, I’d suddenly think of Willem and wonder what was happening to him as if his life hadn’t ‘paused’ while the book lay shut, but continued between the closed pages. That felt unacceptable; I wanted to be reading.

Willem is both a businessperson and a loving uncle, with much in his life to be thankful for, including a long-standing friendship with his best mate, Jake. That’s not to say that Will’s life is without stresses and seeing Jake at long last appears to be getting serious with his latest girlfriend, Will takes a chance and follows what began as an internet romance to its logical conclusion, to meet up with the person he’s only known online. From here, what happens after Will disappears leads the reader into a clever reworking of mythology extending back to ancient Egypt. As I immersed deeper into this supernatural world that exists in the undercurrents of our own, that initial steady pace made sense. One needs fully to know and understand Will to make what happens to him all the more involving.

It’s been a while since I read a book where I loved almost all the characters, both ‘good’ and ‘bad’ and ached equally for them. There is much manipulation and secretive agendas that make the line between antagonist and victim blur, as do the lines of sexuality. Although Will is gay, this is not a homosexual novel, and it would be a tremendous pity if anyone dismissed the reading of it as anything less than it is — an engrossing narrative bringing new life to the vampire mythos that could equally interest vampire aficionados and those with no particular liking for the subject.

This is and isn’t a vampire book, just as it is and isn’t so many other things, but a satisfying blend, a commingling of old and new, the future and the past, complexities of relationships, love and hate. One is left feeling that these characters are all being moved like pawns in some great game where some fundamental rule or ‘truth’ is missing. Those who believe they are following a line of destiny are as helpless as a newly re-birthed upyr of the story. I hurt for Frederick almost as I did Willem. In this expert way, the author humanises the villains of the piece, making the reader care even when a twinge of betrayal or guilt accompanies the feelings, for Willem remains the central pivot that wreaks havoc with the emotions, both with the other characters in the story and with the person turning the pages.

Unusually, for a book in a series, I have to agree with another reviewer who commented on the truly great ending, calling it both subtle and powerful. I’d like to add another word to that: perfect. It’s the perfect end at the perfect moment. I feel content enough to leave the story for now, and let the events I’ve learned so far percolate… with anticipation.

You can check out Andy’s Amazon page where you will see The Seeker has two covers, but this is the latest:

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Tired of Adulting

As children, we often feel put upon because the adults are the ones who make ‘our’ decisions. This is not helped by the (many) times these restrictions come without an explanation. Children feel victimised, unfairly treated. Other children bullied them, and in worse cases, so do parents and teachers. We hear, or imagine, how great it is to be an adult. Being ‘adult’ represents freedom. Being told, “Well, when you’re an adult, you’ll be able to make your own decisions,” strengthens this.

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Adults are liars. People are born into a world where they are never free. They are born into a world with expectations. That’s not entirely a bad thing — I believe in a certain standard of social and ethical responsibility, but it’s why money can be the root of all evil. Money represents a kind of freedom most of us will never obtain, never appreciate. It’s not so much about what we can buy, or what we can own. Not even about not having to do as we’re told. It’s about not having to do as we’re told, unjustly.

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Children and adults bully children. Adults and children bully adults. Children look at adults and see them as having all the power when most adults will never have the power at all. Adults remain children. It’s just that some are better at hiding it. Some ooze confidence, but in their darkness hours, they are still children. Sometimes we all need a cuddle. We all wish someone else could be the adult for a day. All just keep plodding along, doing the best we can. We learn our parents were ‘winging it’, faking it, ‘putting on a brave face’… and maybe that’s the accurate definition. Maybe in that regard I excel at being ‘adult’. I’m still tired some days. And it is on those days where creativity is many a person’s survival mechanism.

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‘Adults’ everywhere, I hug you.

Images from memepile. If aware of any copyright breaches, please advise.

Beautiful Brugge

Hi Everyone. I was absent from blogging last week because we were in the beautiful city of Brugge (you may have seen it more commonly spelled as Bruges). We sailed over on a two-night cruise to spend the day for two reasons. One of which was curiosity. We had heard both good and bad reviews of the flagship Britannia and wanted the experience and to make up our own mind.

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The Atrium

Our view is short is that while well conceived overall the ship is seriously let down by a few design flaws, most importantly the lack of a central staircase, which would ease congestion on the lift (even if unable to walk up, many would have used them going down). There were stairs mid-ship, but only for the crew or to be used in an emergency. At least we found points we did like, including a good bottle of wine in the wine bar.

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Wine Bar, Coffee shop, and shops surround the Atrium
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Decided if this were a long cruise this would be my spot in the library.

It shocked me to hear a few less than complimentary remarks when we said we were going. We’ve been three times. On this occasion, we went to do some shopping.

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The famous Belfry (I’ve climbed twice), over 36o steps.

What is Brugge famous for? Most chocolate, beer, and lace. My tip for chocolate is don’t opt for the cheapest as you’ll be eating butter, not cocoa. Of course, there are also cakes.

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Just one of the bright ‘eat me’ displays.

Beer… it’s an acquired taste for some, so it’s one of those flavours that needs experiencing rather than recommendation. Belgium beer is very different from other parts of the world, though can be more refreshing. Lace… I bought my first pieces, both with Halloween/Autumnal themes. I also bought an Autumn Mix bag of chocolates that is too cute to eat… but I’m sure I will manage, though I may save them until the end of the month. But for the writer in me, I love the architecture, which screams story setting and fairy tales.

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Looks like something magical should happen.

For now, life returns to normal with a shiver or two not created by anything I’ve written. There’s a definite nip in the air.

Shaking hands with Lethbridge-Stewart

Hi everyone! I thought this week was a good time to post an update I planned to entitle Update September 2016. That changed when my most exciting news arrived in my inbox this morning. I can’t exactly call this Dark Fiction, but it’s more that side of my writing than anything else, though the tone of the story is fast and light. My short story, The Wishing Bazaar, is now part of the third series of Lethbridge-Stewart ‘The Brigadier’ of Doctor Who fame. I’ve been keeping this secret for quite some unbearable time. With the press release, it’s official:

Series Three Announced! Times Squared for Pre-order!

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My next truly Dark Fiction title Blood Moon will appear in Night to Dawn magazine early next year under my pseudonym of Sharon Kernow. It is one of several from an ongoing project of shorts under a theme, of which I’ve already published some stories. I have it in mind to place a few with magazines and then form a collection either through a publisher, should I be able to find one, or dip into self-publishing.

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On the romance side, JMS Books has contracted Snow Angel. The new, and one hopes, improved version should be out before the end of the year both in ebook and print. Hard to believe how much my writing has changed. I’m working on drafts of book 2 (which is now extended), and book 3 (completely new/roughly drafted). The re-write came about because when I considered adding a third and much-asked for title, I realised the writing was vastly different. I asked a couple of the fans and they voted for a re-write. The re-release is with JMS mostly because that’s the only way I could get print, but because of the good work ethic I’ve seen from the company so far. Others are screaming for work from me, I know. I’m sorry. Life pitches us curves and no one can be more frustrated than I.

I have a schedule I’m diving into. Thanks to everyone who has asked for work and those who have shown incredible patience.

 

Plot vs Pants

First, an explanation.

A writer who is a ‘plotter’ plans out the course of the story, thinks about the plot, theme, subtext, characterisation, and many other elements ‘before writing’.

A ‘pantser’ sits down at the keyboard with an idea or a model (these are two different things I won’t explain here except to say one is more fully fledged than the other) and writes. ‘Pantsing’ is to ‘fly by the seat of’ (one’s pants), though I prefer to call it organic writing.

I’m (mostly) a pantser, which I realise doesn’t mean I don’t plot but having read a reference to Stephen King recently, a proverbial lightbulb went off in my head illuminating the fact that, like King, I’m an intuitive plotter. I am NOT for the record stating at this point in time I do it as well as he does, but here’s hoping one day, preferably soon. Really, that’s the definition of (successful) pantsers — they are intuitive plotters.

Yes, I can face the blank page and craft a story with nothing more than a vague idea in mind. I often write from beginning to end. I seldom jump around. The story comes to me as if I am reading, and in that respect, it appears I’m lucky the way King is fortuitous. We can ‘pants’ it. The same cannot be said of every writer, though it doesn’t diminish the effort required, and a simple but painful truth remains: sometimes planning isn’t a bad idea even for pantsers. A story may not work for many reasons. Vital elements may be missing. Or be in the wrong order. Even a good book may benefit from being looked over to check all the important formations of story-telling are present and/or in the right place.

I imagine most writers start out as pantsers, unless they have a professional writing background. Most writers are readers who range from someone ‘wanting to have a go’ to those who have always dreamed of it being a vocation. Some (the lucky few) will discover they are intuitive, their writing tends to be organic, and they write something good enough to capture a publisher’s interest. Those who aren’t intuitive writers who don’t put in more work likely publish nothing, or nothing well-received.

Stories have patterns. Don’t worry if you didn’t realise this. If you’re a reader, you shouldn’t. I was ‘only’ a reader once, though there’s no such thing as ‘only a reader’ to those who love books, who buy them or produce them. A reader should enjoy a book without seeing its framework. The reader isn’t supposed to know the design is there.

Pantsers write and either give up or get nowhere (I throw my hands up and confess there are always the often-dreaded exceptions) because they don’t realise this, or they are intuitive and form the shape without realising. Once pantsers become published authors, they may or may not perceive the hidden construction of stories. Some will continue to be intuitive without thinking about it, while some (of which I am one) will spot these layouts.

A note of warning: IMHO recognition of these designs ‘may’ spoil the simple enjoyment of reading somewhat (at least for me). As an author, I now read a book more aware of the narrative. I’m able to spot the ‘inciting incident’ (for example). Don’t worry if as a reader you don’t know what that is, but writers should understand. For me, books were more enjoyable when these plot points were ‘invisible’ because as a reader I did not tune my mind in to spot them.

Plotters know stories require an arrangement and they set out to make the task easier for themselves by laying the groundwork beforehand.

To a pantser, plotting feels like studying for an exam. A plotter to a pantser can seem like one of those irritating kids in school who enjoyed the study process. Ironically, I was one of those who didn’t overly mind studying — good thing because as a writer sometimes I need to do research.

The trouble is, depending on what level of intuitive grasp the writer has of the subject, the pantser can be the one looking wistfully back, wishing they had spent the hours pouring over the textbooks in order to get a better result, but I’m not advocating either option.

Which is better? This is a simple question with a simple answer: use the one that works for you. Some writers plot, some pants, and some do a mixture of the two, and what’s required can differ from work to work, genre to genre, project to project. The choice often comes down to which the writer finds easier, more natural, or even which he or she can withstand. For some pantsers, plotting can seem torturous. For some plotters, pantsing must seem bewildering and disastrous.