New Year, New Novel Series

Coming next year: A new series set in the world of Orana: Guardians of Orana. The origin stories of the characters from the Nature Walker Trilogy and the Tales of the Forest War intertwined with the ongoing story of Orana, due out in the autumn of 2021. 

Watch this space, and visit nancyedunne.com for preordering information.

Music Mondays: Elys and Hack

 [Their story is coming, for those who have laughed along with and fallen in love with the most unlikely duo in all of Orana.]

So, I was first introduced to this song by a Rennie friend of mine when he mentioned how perfect it was for a workout. Y'all, I am so far away from a workout if it involves leaving my house...but it ended up in my Music from Orana rotation and I had never associated it with any one character or place until recently. 

I've been doing some drafting for the Guardians of Orana series where I want to be able to tell the backstories and current exploits of the cast of characters from the Nature Walker Trilogy, and this song is just Elys and Hack. Their unlikely friendship hit like the thunder before the lightning. Readers of the trilogy know Elys's backstory and how she never takes anything for granted. She is the line in the first verse that is dreaming of bigger things. Hack is the lightning strike that either illuminates her way or blasts it clear for her - sometimes/often both. Conversely, Hack is the thunder that warns the enemy - Elys does love to burn things, just like a lightning bolt.

Also, Imagine Dragons. Y'all. Perfection. Have a listen.

Thunder

Imagine Dragons

Just a young gun with the quick fuse

I was uptight, wanna let loose

I was dreaming of bigger things

And wanna leave my own life behind

Not a yes sir, not a follower

Fit the box, fit the mold

Have a seat in the foyer, take a number

I was lightning before the thunder

Thunder, thunder

Thunder, thun', thunder

Thun-thun-thunder, thunder, thunder

Thunder, thun', thunder

Thun-thun-thunder, thunder

Thunder, feel the thunder

Lightning then the thunder

Thunder, feel the thunder

Lightning then the thunder

Thunder, thunder

Thunder

Kids were laughing in my classes

While I was scheming for the masses

Who do you think you are?

Dreaming 'bout being a big star

They say you're basic, they say you're easy

You're always riding in the back seat

Now I'm smiling from the stage while

You were clapping in the nose bleeds

Thunder

Thunder, thun', thunder

Thun-thun-thunder, thunder, thunder

Thunder, thun', thunder

Thun-thun-thunder, thunder

Thunder, feel the thunder

Lightning then the thunder

Thunder, feel the thunder

Lightning then the thunder

Thunder

Thunder, feel the thunder

Lightning then the thunder, thunder

Thunder, feel the thunder

Lightning then the thunder, thunder

Thunder, feel the thunder

Lightning then the thunder, thunder

Thunder, feel the thunder

Lightning then the thunder, thunder

Thunder, feel the thunder

Lightning then the thunder, thunder

Thunder, thunder, thunder

Thun-thun-thunder, thunder

Thunder, thunder, thunder

Thun-thun-thunder, thunder

Thunder, thunder, thunder

Thun-thun-thunder, thunder

Thunder, thunder, thunder

Thun-thun-thunder, thunder

Music Monday: Nelenie Ergwyn

[For everyone that is currently thinking that Nelenie didn't have a surname, she does. I just haven't gotten that book published yet. So, as per usual, SPOILERS and YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, etc.]

There has been a topic floating in a fantasy writer's group I belong to for a while now. It ebbs and flows and resurfaces. "Do you feel inspired by music/Do you have music on while you write?" The five or six of you that are regular readers of the Lettuce know the answer for me, but it has been interesting to see how much my experience is not the norm, at least because I listen to music with words. Many of my colleagues in that group listen to ambient music/sounds or instrumentals only. Does that mean I'm cheating because I'm listening to music with lyrics that speak to me about my characters?

Nope. At least, I don't think so. Everyone is inspired by something, and this inspires me to create them. I think that's fair.

So, this week, a minor character turned major character as the story moved along. Nel and Gin grew up as friends until the differences between the Alynatalans and the Aynamaedeans pulled them apart. Their friendship influenced Nel's relationship with Elys and Tairn's reverence for Gin as a mother figure. Gin's feelings of inadequacy took root when Ben chose Nel over her. Not so minor, eh?

I have been thinking about her because she resurfaces in Guardians of Darkness, the beginning of the Guardians of Orana series and because the woman that inspired her is a good friend of mine who is accomplishing amazing things against incredible odds. So as I always do, I sat with a few songs before I found one that really is Nel's song to me.

Nel experienced so much upheaval during the events of the Nature Walker Trilogy. Her life changed when she came of age and realized that she and Gin were different. Her life changed when she followed the path of a warrior rather than a magic-user and took on all the difficulty that choice entailed. Her life changed drastically when she bucked the system of her people and trained Elys, an Aynamaedean, to fight in the way that Nel was taught. Her life certainly changed when that relationship was discovered and reported - by someone she had loved and trusted for her entire life - and she was exiled, forced to live as a mercenary. 

But with each trial, Nel held her head high and just got on with things. It's what drew her to Elys, I think because they are very similar in personality and threshold for surrender. But there comes a point where you have to just stop, reassess, and take the steps to get back on your path. The song "From Now On" from the musical/movie "The Greatest Showman" really spoke to me when I thought about Nel, and how she comes to that point - and I'll stop there before Nancy Spoilers spiral out of control.

From Now On

Zac Brown Band/Hugh Jackman

I saw the sun begin to dim
And felt that winter wind blow cold
A man learns who is there for him
When the glitter fades and the walls won't hold

'Cause from then, rubble
What remains can only be what's true
If all was lost, it's more I've gained
'Cause it led me back to you

And from now on, these eyes will not be blinded by the lights
From now on, what's waited 'til tomorrow starts tonight
Tonight, and let this promise in me start like an anthem in my heart
From now on, from now on

I drank champagne with kings and queens
The politicians praised my name
But those are someone else's dreams
The pitfalls of the man I became

For years and years, I chased their cheers
At the crazy speed of always needing more
But when I stop and see you here
I remember who all this was for

And from now on, these eyes will not be blinded by the lights
And from now on, what's waited 'til tomorrow starts tonight
Starts tonight, let this promise in me start like an anthem in my heart
From now on, from now on, from now on

And we will come back home
And we will come back home, home again
And we will come back home
And we will come back home, home again
And we will come back home
And we will come back home, home again

From now on, these eyes will not be blinded by the lights
And from now on, what's waited 'til tomorrow starts tonight
Starts tonight, and let this promise in me start like an anthem in my heart
From now on, from now on, from now on

And we will come back home
And we will come back home, home again
And we will come back home
And we will come back home, home again
From now on, from now on, home again

On being ever so slightly...PITMAD...

Today I am pitching this manuscript on Twitter as a part of #PITMAD and if I have anything shy of NUBS on the ends of my hands by 8pm tonight it will be a miracle. Photoshop sometimes helps me keep my mind clear while I'm writing, so I made this little teaser graphic to keep me on track - and now even looking at it is making me nervous.

Music Mondays: Sathlir and Ginolwenye

[Slightly spoilerly - read at your own risk...]

Yeah, I couldn't sit on this one any longer. Anyone who knows me or has seen me talk about Gin and Sath and the Orana Chronicles knows how much I love these two characters. When I first heard this song I was captivated. It seems like it was written for them, documenting the path they take in the Nature Walker Trilogy. Please find the lyrics below and enjoy the music of this band from Dublin as they talk about my superheroes, Gin and Sath.

Superheroes

The Script

All the life she has seen

All the meaner side of me

They took away the prophet's dream

For a profit on the street

Now she's stronger than you know

A heart of steel starts to grow

All his life he's been told

He'll be nothing when he's old

All the kicks and all the blows

He won't ever let it show

'Cause he's stronger than you know

A heart of steel starts to grow

When you've been fighting for it all your life

You've been struggling to make things right

That's how a superhero learns to fly

Every day, every hour, turn the pain into power

When you've fighting for it all your life

You've been working every day and night

That's how a superhero learns to fly

Every day, every hour, turn the pain into power

Oh-oh, oh, oh

Oh-oh, oh, oh

All the hurt, all the lies

All the tears that they cry

When the moment is just right

You see fire in their eyes

'Cause he's stronger than you know

A heart of steel starts to grow

When you've been fighting for it all your life

You've been struggling to make things right

That's how a superhero learns to fly

Every day, every hour, turn the pain into power

When you've fighting for it all your life

You've been working every day and night

That's how a superhero learns to fly

Every day, every hour, turn the pain into power (power, power, power, power, power)

Every day, every hour turn the pain into power

(Power, power, power, power)

Every day, every hour turn the pain into power

She's got lions in her heart

A fire in her soul he's a got a beast

In his belly that's so hard to control

'Cause they've taken too much hits, taking blow by blow

Now light a match, stand back, watch them explode

She's got lions in her heart

A fire in her soul he's a got a beast

In his belly that's so hard to control

'Cause they've taken too much hits, taking blow by blow

Now light a match, stand back, watch them explode

When you've been fighting for it all your life

You've been struggling to make things right

That's a how a superhero learns to fly

Every day, every hour, turn the pain into power

When you've fighting for it all your life

You've been working every day and night

That's a how a superhero learns to fly

Every day, every hour, turn the pain into power (power, power, power, power, power)

Oh, yes (power, power, power, power)

Every day, every hour, turn the pain into power

(Power, power, power, power) Ooh, yeah

Whoa (power, power, power, power)

Every day, every hour, turn the pain into power

When you've been fighting for it all your life

You've been struggling to make things right

That's how a superhero learns to fly

She is me...meet Tairneanach.

Early artwork for Guardians of Orana: Red

I am an avid reader. Well, more to the point I have the desire to be an avid reader, but I don't have as much time to read as I used to do. Often as I am reading, I wonder how much of the author is in the main character - because I cannot write without putting myself into my work. It's the best way to know that my characters are staying true to human emotions and movements and the like - even though a great many of them are not human at all.

I remember saying to one of my beta readers for the Nature Walker Trilogy that I didn't think Gin would do <something> because Gin was me, and I wouldn't do that - and he said, "Yes, I knew that because I know you." But the more I worked with Gin, the more she moved away from me. She isn't me, at least not anymore.

I am still there, though. I have been working this week on first revisions on a manuscript I wrote last year during a NaNoWriMo of one form or another. There is a plan for future books set on Orana, and this is one of them. Readers of the trilogy will remember Tairneanach, a high elf from Alynatalos who was a childhood friend of Gin's and Nelenie's younger sister. She is a magic user with a desperate need to have her own power - she does not want to depend on anyone, because the last time she did that, Ben took advantage of her and made her do horrible things. The book I am revising now is her story.

I haven't touched this manuscript since it was finished at the end of that NaNoWriMo, and I'm actually enjoying reading it. She is so familiar to me, in a way that Gin has never been. For those of you that are going of course she is, because you wrote it, this is something that I don't know if I can explain to people that aren't writers. I write all kinds of characters, some of them similar to me in thought and word and deed and some diametrically opposed to me. Tairn is more me than Gin ever was. There are times, writing Gin, that I am surprised by what happens because it is not what *I* would do, but it is what Gin would do. That hasn't happened so far in my revision with Tairn, and I'm excited for readers to learn more about her than the fact that she can turn herself into a pair of gloves to be balled up and buried in the bottom of Sath's rucksack.

So...meet Tairneanach, who carries the most of me into the story world of Orana. You will get to know her better in the upcoming standalone Guardians of Orana novel, Red. 

Well, that happened...

It turned out to be better than I could have ever thought when I started. I have been hearing about a genre that I think must be rather new - LitRPG. At Hummel Books Blog, I found this definition that I think is a good one:

“LitRPG is a subgenre of science fiction and fantasy which describes the hero’s adventures within an online computer game. LitRPG books merge traditional book-style narration with elements of a gaming experience , describing various quests, achievements and other events typical of a video game.”

Now, the work in progress still needs a bit of work, because I find myself lapsing back into the fantasy genre. All my other novels (save the dog books) are epic type fantasy novels. At the same time, I have been told that my trilogy is like a game campaign. So maybe I was always heading for this?

Now I'm off to look for comps (if I hear one more time that my story is Tron meets Read Player One, I will scream), finish writing it (November needed about another week), and get to editing. But I also should be editing Scorch and getting it off to beta readers. But for a few minutes, I'm going to enjoy that I've met Em, Alex, and Lex and wait for them to tell me the rest of their story.

Rift - the first novel in the Arcstone Series 

Madelyne Laurent is a bookseller in a chain bookshop in Paris by day, but by night she is Em, elven warrior in the massively multiplayer online game, Arcstone. Her closest friend is someone she has never met in person – Alex – and she spends her days anxiously ready to log into the game with him.  

A mission goes awry and Madelyne finds herself in the body of her online persona, Em. Can she find out how she ended up in Arcstone in time to get herself back out, or will she end up stuck in the game world she wanted so desperately to inhabit? And is Alex – or his avatar ‘Lex’ – trying to help her or hurt her? When a tyrant running the show inside and outside of Arcstone sets his sights on Madelyne and her father, she must make alliances to save her father’s life – and get both of them back to the real world, if she can. 

Welcome to Arcstone – Game loading, please wait…

Stay tuned to my website for Rift cover reveal and more. I can't wait for all of you to meet them!

If anyone is looking for me...

I just discovered that I can novel ON MY PHONE because I am an OLD LADY who doesn't understand TECHNOLOGY so I am now noveling on the bus and at other times that I can't get to my laptop (or shouldn't be noveling like... you know, at work...).

This year's Nano is a departure from my recent work - if you look here at my Nano dashboard, you'll see that I have all but devoted my recent Nano and CampNano time to an Orana Chronicle or similar. Not in many seasons have I started down a completely new path with new characters.

Okay, maybe it isn't completely new because there are MMORPG elements and fantasy elements. But sort of. Just hear me out.

Rift is the working title (and yes, I know there is a video game called Rift) and the story centers on Em (short for Maddie) who finds herself pulled from her modest flat in Paris into the world of an MMORPG (massively-multiplayer online role-playing game) that she plays. Everything in Arcstone is as she has seen it for years on her screen, including her online player buddy Alex's avatar, a demon called Lex. Em is not sure whether she is horrified or delighted - perhaps a bit of both?

But nothing in Arcstone is as it seems. Le Creáteur is hunting for Em and Lex in the game, and it will be up to them to figure out what he is after and how he managed to intersect the real world and the game world. Their developing relationship complicates matters too - is Lex really Alex, that Em has known for years? Is he also stuck in Arcstone just as she is? And if so, can she trust him?

Yeah, so that's the back cover blurb so far. It has already gone off the rails and has minor characters running amok, revealing information far earlier than I had planned. Em and Lex are behaving like randy teenagers. And the aptly named Main Character 3 is skulking around and NOT telling me who he/she is or why the skulking and peeping in windows.

I don't know what has fueled this new story. I had every good intention of working on either a revamp of The Baskervilles (after that amazing anonymous first-page feedback from Broadleaf 2019) or work on an upcoming collaboration with another amazing writer friend of mine, Tony Daniel. And then here comes Em and Lex and their story, and everything goes sideways.

And so far, it is the most exhilarating kind of manic sideways and I'm loving it. See you guys on the other side of 30 days or 50k words...whichever comes first.

On stalls, false starts, and the writing process...

This is my writing process, lately...

So, Nanowrimo is coming up next month. A writing conference down in Georgia is coming up next month. Two appearances at the Carolina Renaissance Festival are coming up next month, one with the Hounds of East Fairhaven and one as a SciFi/Fantasy author signing copies of Ignite and Wanderer.

That's a lot right there, enough to give anyone pause and to force normal people to take a break. But y'all know I am not normal people, not even close. I'm trying not to freak out about the book signing - literally, that is a daily struggle between OMG SO MANY PEOPLE TO SEE MY BOOKS  and OMG SO MANY PEOPLE THAT MAY WANT TO TALK TO ME. That stressed me out just typing it!

In order to keep from packing my bags and running away, I thought I'd focus on Nanowrimo. Every November I have again been swept away in word counts and nefarious noveling. I am an absolute pantser and have no plans to change...though I do sort of know what my project will be this fall. Or at least I thought I did. I thought that I would continue to ride the wave of the anonymous first-page critique from Broadleaf and start over with my Baskervilles. I thought I would get at least a rough first draft knocked out in November. I thought wrong.

I was moving at a nice clip doing research until I got stalled out by a pretty vicious head cold. I started again, but this time the fire is gone. Cold. Non-existant. I am thinking that I might just put my poor, neglected Baskervilles away for another Nano season and haul them out next year for Camp Nano. Again. Poor Lucy and Annie.

This has been my writing process this year, and I am normally good at reminding myself that 2018 and 2019 have nearly ruined me as a person, both emotionally and physically, and I'm still coming out from under that - me, not me-the-author or me-in-my-day-job. ME. But those of us that are servants of the storytelling are some of the worst for forcing ourselves forward when all we really needed was a few steps backward to see the right path.

Ugh. I'm hoping to get myself together by the end of this week, but no promises.  What do you do when you are stalled out and can't make yourself move forward?

On Tired Bones and a Still Too-Raw Heart

How many Wolfhounds can YOU fit on one loveseat?

This summer was spectacular in that awful, soul-killing, exhausting way, and so far autumn has not been much better. I mean, can you even call this autumn? The forecast for today is 94F/34C with no clouds and sun. To me, this is more summer than the actual summer, more summer than even AUGUST. This is a level of hell that even Dante hadn't encountered.

I have not been able to do much when I'm not at the DayJob™ but sit on the sofa and binge-watch telly. I hear this is part of the healing process from trauma, but to me it just seems lazy and indulgent, in a lazy and indulgent sort of way with which I am familiar, seeing as how I am lazy and indulgent. However, this seems different because before I COULD get up and do things, I just didn't want to do that so on the sofa I stayed. Now - well, it's just hard.

Before I could at least bring the laptop to the sofa and write or edit or research. On Saturday, I managed a character sketch, and when I say that, I mean I wrote out a background for a character. I still have no idea what she looks like or what her internal/external conflict may be. I managed to do some research and get that into my research folder. But that's it. Most of the day was dedicated to binge-watching.

There was a dog recently where Hubs works who was coming up on his last day and Hubs really wanted to foster him just to keep him alive. There was a family that was interested but they bailed. He was on a bite hold for a bogus claim from his most recent adoptive family. He is heartworm positive. And try as I might, I could not feel good about telling Hubs that I really didn't want to foster him so I agreed. Lucky for me, he is going to a rescue group, but I spent entirely too much time crying over a dog I had never met.

It's all related. It is all a function of trying to function when you are tired right down past your bones and into your soul. It is what happens when you are looking for your heart of steel but the only one you can find is too raw to manage. Thus, retreat into the sofa cushions until further notice. With those fuzzballs up there in the photo for therapy.

If you need me, I will be in between Mindhunter and Agents of SHEILD with a jaunt here and there to Babylon 5. Until further notice. Until my heart heals a bit and my bones rest - because I think for my soul it is going to be much longer.

And another hot minute passes...

Wild Horses Statue, Providence, RI

Right, so where was I? Ciaragh was back, I was done with GARF, and life was settling down so I could get ready for my inlaws to come for a visit.

Yeah, that didn't happen. Not even close.

For those that don't know, my mom had some sort of major neurological event around the 3rd week of June, and she has not been able to recover completely. She is in hospice care now, and we really don't know what the next step is there.

I'm updating right now from a hotel in Rhode Island because I am attending the RID conference. I had completely let this go to the wayside with everything going on at home. I happened to look at the webi

Nope, let's start again.

This has been the weirdest summer of my entire 47.5 years of life. I sort of feel like I'm in the middle of that groovy statue I got to photograph in Providence - only the horses are real and in motion, and if I don't watch out I'm going to get trampled.

Over the summer, I wasn't watching out, and I was most certainly trampled. Ciaragh was back home, and I was settling into my regular summer routine of freelance interpreting, planning for upcoming faires, and writing as much as I could whenever I could. The final draft of the second Clobberpaws book was starting to sit up and pay attention. The first novel in the Forest Wars saga was being actively edited for the...I don't know, umpteenth time, and was on track for publication at the end of July.

And then, my sister took my mother up to see my dad's grave on what would have been his birthday. And then there was the night about four days later that I was talking to my mother on the phone and she was slurring her words and was very confused. I rang my sister who went over there, spent the night there, and then took Mom to Emory the next day to see the doctor.

From there, she was fast-tracked into the unit that treats stroke patients, only she hadn't had a stroke. There was no evidence at all of a stroke. And then she had a seizure and slept for about five days - as one does when one is 86 and has a massive seizure. Her advance directive said no life-prolonging measures - no feeding tubes, etc. And then she was on the hospice unit for something like three weeks, so because nothing was happening, they discharged her to her home, where she died about two weeks-ish later.

Now, none of that is about me. It's nothing to do with me. But the aftermath is everything to do with me, my sister, and our families. I spent a good day after Mom died wondering if I was an orphan now. Is that something that only applies to children? More time than was probably necessary was devoted to wondering what would happen to my sister and me - we had been texting all day almost every day since that fateful phone call because I am a state away from them. Now that the crisis time was over, would we fade back into our typical roles, only communicating now and then?

So here I am, a month and two days from waking up to a phone call from my sister that Mom had passed in her sleep, and I'm still wondering. Still waiting. Still an orphan - I decided I wanted to own that, so I did. Still struggling to find someone to talk to on long days at home or long car rides when I usually would call Mom. Still not quite able to listen to the stack of voice mails from her still on my phone - recordings that underscore what a neglectful daughter I am for not visiting her more often.

Here I am, with a book about to launch in a week's time, a "First Page Critique" away to the folks running the writer's conference in September that I will be attending (in the hopes that it will be chosen to be anonymously ripped to bits by a panel of literary agents), and a big signing event in the works for November.

Here I am, suddenly winning at being a writer for at least a few minutes, and the number one person I want to tell isn't here. I hope she knows. I hope she is pleased. I hope she is proud.

Qet!

TlhIgan Alphabet

Yeah, some of you didn't need the caption to know what the image is, did you? It's okay if you didn't, I won't tell anyone. The language-loving Trekkie in me recognizes the language-loving Trekkie in you, friend. Qapla'!

I am hereby outing myself as trying to learn Klingon. Yes, that is the language created for one of the fictional races in Star Trek. Yes, it does have a lot to do with the fact that Lt. Commander Worf is one of my favorite characters from Roddenberry's creation. But there are two other reasons, one that should be plain if you know me and one that might not be so plain, but will make sense, again, if you know me.

Reason the First: I love languages. When I was little, I had a book - it was called The Book of Knowledge - and the book had listings of most of the nationalities of the world and their languages, and gave a few sample words in each language. It fascinated me to know how you say "Hello!" in Spanish or "Pardon me," in French. And then there were the languages that did not use the same alphabet that English does - languages that use Cyrillic characters, for example - it was like code! Trying to see similarities that weren't there between those characters and the Latin script that makes up the languages I understand filled my afternoons as a kid. It was a true tragedy that my school system didn't teach languages before high school as so many do today, or I would have taken every single one I could fit into my schedule.

It is no wonder that I do what I do for a living - one of my best memories of the time I have been in my current job was a day that my co-interpreter and I were watching music videos in American Sign Language on YouTube and being just overcome with the choices the performer was making. We were out of our first language altogether and just allowing the beauty of our second language to live and breathe on the screen and then on our own hands as we tried to recreate what he had done first - the efficiency of his sign choices and the beauty of the meaning that he conveyed was just more than I could take. ASL to me is like magic - linear language becoming three dimensional and alive.

Who is surprised? No one, I'm sure.

Reason the Second: I am a very mousy person. Very few people have experienced truly ANGRY me who is so ANGRY that she expresses that ANGER. I am introverted and shy, and I hate that about myself because it seems that it is NOT THE RIGHT WAY TO BE, according to most of the people in my life. I am more expressive in ASL than I am in English, oddly enough, because ASL lends itself well to that sort of communication. There is no whispering in a visual language.

Klingon is harsh. It is a gutteral language. It is loud. There aren't words for Hello or please or thank you. I still won't speak it out loud unless I am asked how to say a particular word. It is a language whose culture is completely opposite of who I am every day, and I love that. But y'all, the best thing that has happened since I started this process has been the ability to understand some of the Klingon used on the different programs in the Star Trek world.

This new understanding of aggressiveness and harshness is helping me with some of the races that I have created in my novels - and it is helping me create languages for those races. While Sath may seem like a pussy cat, he has another side to him that is more rough and animalistic, yet developed - that is how Qatu'anari should be, and to date, it isn't really. Maybe the Klingon will help me with that, as well as with other races that live on the Dark Side of the World that has yet to be discovered, or with D'leesh spoken by the dark elves, or even Eldyr. This makes my heart so happy.

Conclusion: Am I nerdy? Oh, no question. Most definitely.

Will I be able to fire back at you in Klingon when you call me a nerd, with that derogatory tone in your voice? 'oH net poQbej Har SoH!

Ongoing Scrivener Saga

So after many hours of struggling with my own lack of patience, I finally cracked the code and got my enormous work in progress into Scrivener. Seems that two things were working against me: 1. My laptop was trying to run the program in a compatibility mode with Windows 8, which -much like Windows Vista - was really pretty and about as useful as a screen door on a submarine. 2. Scrivener is a multi-faceted program that takes a file and manipulates it into several different formats, so when you have a HUGE file like the manuscript I was importing it's going to take awhile.

By 'awhile' I mean ten minutes. I timed it. From clicking on 'open' in the import dialog box to the title page appearing on my screen it took ten solid minutes. The fact that I thought to time it is a completely different issue.

This is a good time for me to admit that I had an idea about what Scrivener would do, based on my use of the program for a screenplay several years ago. I had taken a manuscript then and used the formatting in Scrivener to set it up properly for a screenplay. I remembered simply cutting and pasting and poof! Screenplay!

First, I was missing a few steps in between the cut/paste and poof. So when I put my 143,000+ word manuscript into the Scrivener software I spent a few good long minutes looking for the POOF button. What I found instead was a fantastic tutorial that I watched and I did the steps along with it. The result was not a poof, but an almighty 'oh, that's how it works' that was almost as satisfying as the poof I erroneously remembered.

Second, the keyboard shortcut to "split" the huge behemoth into smaller chunks (chapters) was an amazing find. When you have more than 50 chapters, finding anything that speeds up your work is a huge plus. It went on from there - the corkboard, the ability to move chapters around, the outline contained on index cards - and I am sold.

The only thing left is that I feel a bit like I am stepping out on Google Drive. I did find this wonderful article that explained how to sync up my Scrivener data with Drive so that I can work on more than one machine and have a backup that I trust. So I guess I'm not completely leaving Google Drive behind - it is still my weapon of choice for beta reading and editing. And the current work in progress was 3/4 written in Google Drive, but I'm going to work on it in Scrivener and see what the difference will look like. I'm also going to do April's CampNanoWrimo in Scrivener so we will see how it goes starting from scratch.

The saga continues - just as I was getting excited about working on my novel from my phone. Stay tuned.

Crawling back out of the rabbit hole...

First, let me say that if that image there was my rabbit hole I would never come back out. Ever.

Right, so back to the topic at hand - rabbit holes. I am using this term not to describe an underground warren, but a distraction one encounters while trying to be productive. For me, social media is a big rabbit hole that I try to avoid while working on my current round of edits. But today I encountered an even bigger and deeper hole - Scrivener.

*Quick disclaimer: I am not in any way financially supported by Literature and Latte, the company that makes Scrivener. I also hold no grudge - if anything, I desperately want it to work because I feel like it would improve the quality of my work, if only it would behave itself and start working for me.*

I used Scrivener a few years ago after a Nanowrimo win that led to a discount on the software. I downloaded it and used it during a Script Frenzy - the Office of Letters and Light's now-defunct scriptwriting month - and loved it, but never went back to it because, at the time, I wrote with Word. I still think about going back to that big white 'W' on the blue now and then, just because I used it for so long and understand how it works.

A beta reader and editor suggested that I write in Google Docs after working through edits in between Google and Word and finding Google to be easier. I was already saving my work in that cloud after losing half a manuscript to a bad hard drive, so it was not a huge leap to writing in GDocs. I write everything there now and love it. I even spent an hour today learning how to compare versions of documents! So when voices that I trust from the other rabbit hole, Twitter, suggested Scrivener, I decided to give it a try. After all, I have a 143k word document that needs to be divided into three novels so that I can see where I need to add more meat on the bones and I'm SO VERY TIRED of holding the button on the touchpad while it highlights half my manuscript.

So now I find myself in a new diversion - four hours of my life given to uninstalling and installing Scrivener, watching tutorials, waiting for the program to open (5 minutes) and to import a .doc (10 minutes, I wish I was kidding), and I just don't see the point. The latest version of Windows mentioned in their help files is Windows 8, and I'm on 10. Maybe it was just not meant to be.

Sadly, I'm too stubborn for that and it's back to the Scrivener Rabbit Hole for me. Ugh.

On Daylight Savings Time and Writing Workshops ...

I hates it, precious. I HATES IT!

For the record, it isn't Daylight Savings Time I necessarily hate. It is the tampering with time, both forward and back, that I hate. I especially hate it when it causes my alarm clock goes off at a time that my body thinks is TOO EARLY. (Though let's be honest here - it is always too early. I hate mornings, I am 100% certain about that.)

This year, DST had to come on a Sunday after I have travelled a considerable distance from home alone in my car on Saturday and was exhausted well before the time the great invisible THEY took an hour away from me and my sleep. So it was not going to be a good day, that was a given.

I remember being a kid and having to go to church on Sundays when it turned DST. Not my finest moments, and I should probably apologize to my mother RIGHT NOW for what I'm certain was a fantastic temper tantrum - but the worst, without a doubt, was when DST fell on Sundays that happened to be EASTER Sundays. There is nothing worse, in my estimation, than having to get up to go to a sunrise service that does not actually include sunrise because someone thought that we didn't need all the hours that Sunday and held one of them back. Is it any wonder I once snuck away from the service and instead tried to find a way to help the United Methodist Men work on the pancake breakfast in the church fellowship hall? Clearly, I was trying to save the rest of the congregation from the aforementioned tantrums. Sadly, I was the only one that saw it that way.

Before an hour of my life was stolen, however, I attended the Writing Day Workshops Atlanta Writing Workshop. This was my first professional writer event, and I was a hot mess going into it. But there was so much information presented that I had a blister on my finger from taking notes by the end of the second workshop. I came away with some important information that did not end up in my notebook - it is okay to be self-published. In fact, one of the writers that taught on Saturday started out traditionally published is now doing both, each for a different genre, and it works.

Something that people have been telling me for ages cemented in my mind on Saturday: All you have to do to be a writer is write. You don't have to publish, even. Just write. Enjoy the craft of writing. That's it! I went, ready to be intimidated by my fellow workshop goers and to some extent, I still was - but I also experienced the same feeling I have at interpreting workshops, of being with 'my tribe' and in the company of others who get me. Now if only I could find a fellow fantasy writer that is also a visual language interpreter and I think my life would be complete!

I also have more confidence to query and pitch and think that I have a pitch ready for the first book in the upcoming Baskervilles series...I just need to finish the manuscript first. I had some time to think over lunch, and while I still have a fairly robust publishing calendar for the Orana Chronicles books I'm going to work in some time to polish up the Baskervilles. It would be a good experience to pitch that one because while I love the story and the characters it is not my baby, if you will, like the Orana Chronicles. We will see how that goes.

For now, though, I'm reading over my notes, planning a potential thriller or suspense novel as a one off just to see if I can pull it off, and generally longing for a nap. Happy Monday, y'all. Happy Monday indeed.