Category: Uncategorized

Topsy turvy

It’s been a tospy turvy week for me, and one that’s hard to sum up in a tidy blog post, being neither wholly good or altogether bad, but just the messy stuff of life.

The week started with a surprise visit from a brace of construction workers who swept in without warning to sand and refinish portions of our (yes, brand new) floor, rip out the wall behind our washer-dryer in pursuit of a phantom leaky pipe, and generally make a big freaking mess.  Granted, it’s a mess that needed to happen, but a little heads up (after a two week silence) might have been nice.  So, we’ve been battling toxic fumes and wood dust and accumulating a big pile of dirty laundry all week.

Then, on the other side of the scales, I’ve had one of my most productive writing spurts in ages and ages.  My newest project has positively burst life for me, keeping me awake at night and driving me out of bed early to get it all on the page.  After plodding along for months on revisions, this new tide of words feel cathartic, to say the least.

But the pendulum swings back.  Honduras, a country I’ve been traveling to, working in, and living in off and on for more than a decade has recently slid into turmoil.  Well, “recently” might be too strong a word (and “turmoil” too weak of one).  Two years ago the government was riven by a coup d’etat from which it’s never really recovered.  Political instability opened the door for the burgeoning drug trade and in recent months Honduras has been labeled the most violent and dangerous country in the world. 

The Peace Corp pulled all their volunteers out in December, the U.N. announced Honduras had the highest murder rate of any country in January, and yesterday a prison riot in Comayagua left 300 burned to death and 400 inmates escaped.  To see a place that has been such a huge part of my life for so long slide into chaos leaves me feeling sick, sad, and helpless.  I can choose not to visit, can even find a new place to do my archaeological research, but the people I’ve met and grown close to over the years are stuck in an ever-worsening situation from which they can do nothing to extricate themselves.  It makes my petty cares and worries about construction workers and uneven floorboards feel exactly that:  petty.

So, as the week draws to a close, I feel unsettled, off-balance, and, more than anything, powerless to effect anything outside of my own little sphere.  I guess this is all just a reminder that life is neither predictable nor fair, a reminder to be aware of and grateful for the priviledges and advantages I’ve been given in life, and to try and keep things in proper perspective.

Birthday Blog Post

Today I am 37 years old, which seems weird because I swear I only just turned 32 yesterday (or maybe it was the day before).  Even though I feel like I’ve lurched suddenly, shockingly closer to 40, life is pretty darn good and I feel okay about getting older (I mean, it’s get older or die, right?).  I plan to spend the day writing, shopping (not something I do often, but it *is* my birthday), and drinking Cava and eating tapas.

There’s not much I need or want, other than for my life to continue being awesome.  Still, if you’re looking for a last minute gift idea, here are a few things to consider getting me:

1. I’d like Tottenham Hotspurs to win the English Premier League.

2. Hugs.  You can never have too many hugs.

3. A (clean) seat, every day for the rest of the semester, on the F train and Q64 bus.

4. An umbrella like the one Mary Poppins had.  That was an awesome umbrella.

5. I’m not going to ask for world peace, cause that’s just silly and unreasonable.  Still, it’d be nice if folks could at least realize it’s okay if not everyone is exactly like them and stop acting like people who look or think differently should be legislated against, imprisoned, bombed, invaded, or killed.

6. A year of good books.

7. The ability to watch all future Downton Abbey episodes *now*.

Too much?

Well, time to get to part I of Miranda’s Awesome Birthday Adventure and start writing (yes, I used the word “awesome” 3 times in this post, but it’s my birthday, so shove off, haters!).

Adios, and see you all when I’m 37 and 1.

Writer’s Workspace: 2/6

Good morning!  Welcome to this writer’s workspace.  Here’s what’s happening liiiiiiiiiiiiiive at Miranda’s desk:

What I’m working on:  Revisions to ABSENT, my archaeological time travel novel, are roaring ahead, plus I’ve started drafting a new, very exciting project (top secret, of course).  Here’s a little excerpt:

Snippet from the screen: “Daniel laced his fingers through mine.  His palms were callused and his dark skin was warm.

I sighed.  “I don’t deserve you, you know.”

“Sure you do.”

Huh.  Like I’d ever believe that. 

We sat in silence, holding hands.  Outside, the rain began to fall.  A gull shrieked as it sought shelter in the broken-down third floor turret and raindrops pelted the window, tappity-tap, tappity-tap.  They sounded like a fairy’s tiny fists knocking against the glass. 

If only.  If only magic was fairies and rainbows and wishes.”

In my mug: Mighty Leaf Tropical Green Tea, with a little honey.

On the iTunes: Keep on Tryin’ by Poco.

Keeping me company: No pictures of Mr. Ramses today.  He’s found some dark corner to hide in; probably where he’s working on his manifesto for a world free of human overseers.  Maybe I’d better go check on him…

Out the window: global warming continues to offer Brooklyn a deceptively mild winter.  Sun. 52 today.

A little procrastination never hurt anyone: a few links to share.  First up,  if you haven’t been over to Adventures in SciFi Publishing recently, you should check it out. There’s all sorts of yummy book reviews, podcasts, and interviews with awesome authors.  And, speaking of book reviews, some fellow VP alums have started a new blog for that very purpose, Spec Fic Chicks.  They have in-depth, thoughtful reviews of books featuring strong female characters or written by women authors.

Okay, that’s all from me today, folks.

Over and out!

Book Review: I, Demon

I, Demon by Samuel T. Crown (Historical Fantasy, e-book, 2011)

I, Demon chronicles the life and (rather tumultuous) times of a nameless demon exiled by both heaven and hell  It is recounted in the first person by the demon himself after he is summoned (via a computer program) into a 21st century basement by a perky blonde with a mysterious agenda.  While the aforementioned mysterious agenda plays a role in the larger plot (no spoilers here), most of this story takes places in the medieval past, revealing how the demon lost his name, was freed from hell, and found himself on a globe-spanning adventure to save the world.

If that sounds like rather a lot for a novel to tackle, it is.  But Crown handles the sweeping scope of the story by grounding it in the interactions of witty, likeable characters and in exhaustive research on the Middle Ages.  The first of these two components was, for me, the most compelling.  Nameless Demon has a narrative voice reminiscent of Harry Dresden – a world-weary, cynical exterior surrounding a heart filled with surprisingly compassionate depths.  Taking a demon and making him a likeable character (while not negating his essential demon-ness) is a tricky task, and Crown handles it well.  Over the course of his adventures, we see the nameless demon do many things – some of them good, some of them bad, and many of them morally ambiguous.  Somehow, nearly all of them work to endear him to us.

As far as the plot goes, there’s plenty of intrigue, sex, swordplay, political maneuvering, betrayal, and grandiose clashes between angels and demons.  There are also lovingly detailed accounts of how life really was during medieval times and, briefly, glimpses of a terrifying universe beyond this mortal coil.  If I found one thing to complain about, it would be the middle section of the book, which drags a bit as it sets things up for the novel’s climax.  However, history buffs will probably find little to lament here, as this portion of the book also contains some of the most well-written and well-researched medieval scenes.

All in all, I, Demon is an entertaining read and a great opportunity to spend time with a character who is many things:  cerebral and venal, thoughtful and impulsive, compassionate and wicked.  Oh, and also funny as hell.

What more could you ask for?

Release the hounds!

I’ve been writing casually since 2004 and seriously since 2009.  In that time, I’ve written three novels (plus some short stories).  The first novel is a shiny mess I’ve relegated to the filing cabinet, the second is finished (well, except that I can’t stop tweaking it) and I’m shopping it, and the third is on its second round of revisions.  Pretty much the only thing these three books have in common is the fact that when I first sat down and wrote the initial drafts I did very little organized planning.

Oh, I’d worked out the basics of the plot and done some character development and so on and so forth.  But, in essence, I took a deep breath, dove in, and let the story unfold.  Basically, I pantsed the first draft of each novel.  As a result, each came out in fits and starts, with lots of backtracking and reworking, and plenty of “oh, I should do THIS” going on.  For the second draft of each novel I had to knuckle down, rip the first draft into the birdcage fodder it was, and more or less re-plot the entire thing.  It was fine.  I’m happy (more or less) with where each novel has ended up.  But maybe, just maybe, it was time to try something new.

So I’ve spent the last 8 months doing exactly that.

Yesterday was the dawn of a new era.  I sat down to begin drafting my fourth novel, a novel I had (wait for it) plotted, outlined, world-built, and character developed in detail, in advance.  In fact, for the better part of a year I’ve been working on the ideas, places, conceit, and characters behind this novel.

Did it make a difference?  So far the answer is a resounding YES.

Sitting down to finally start writing was like opening the kennel door and letting a pack of vicious, feral dogs who’d been fed nothing but blood loose on the page.  To borrow a rather crude phrase, they tore that shit up.  I didn’t have to write a sentence, sit there, scratch my head, ask “how would the protagonist react to this?”, scratch my head some more, and then write another sentence.  Instead, the words were flowing.  I knew exactly what the protagonist would do.  Her voice has been battering around inside my head, growing louder and louder, for months now.  I could close my eyes and see every detail of her surroundings and every nuance of her supporting characters’ thoughts and actions.  I knew where she was going, what she was doing, and (most importantly) why.

It was, in a word, awesome.

There were still surprises.  Of course there were.  My fingers still lay down words I wasn’t expecting to write and I still encountered scenes where I had to go back and revise because what I’d written was taking the characters in the wrong direction.  Even with a good outline, it’s still writing and it’s still hard.  Nevertheless, the difference was substantive and satisfying.

So, I may have become a come-to-Jesus plotter.  We’ll see how it goes in the long haul, but for now I have to say that putting in all that development work upfront has given the first chapter of the first draft significantly more richness and complexity than any other first chapter first draft I’ve ever written.  I’m hoping that, down the line, it will also mean fewer major overhauls of the plot.  Only time (and my outline) will tell.

So that’s my testimonial as a born-again plotter.  How about the rest of you?  Any experience switching from pantsing to plotting, or vice versa?  Share your thoughts in the comments!

Excitement

Tomorrow is the first day of classes.

I’ve been teaching for a decade now and I still get excited for the start of a new semester.

I tweak my syllabi, update my slides, search out new readings to assign, and wonder what my students will be like.  I prepare all my materials the night before, certain (and rightly so) that I’ve forgotten something.  I toss and turn, playing out my “welcome to the class” speech in my head all night long.  I laugh nervously at my mistakes as I stand before a sea of faces and flounder through 80 new, unfamiliar names.  I buzz with adrenaline the whole time I’m in the classroom and smile at strangers on the subway ride home.  I am alive.

I figure the day I no longer feel these things on the first day of classes – a day of infinite promise and possibility – is the day I should find a new job.

In the meantime, I count myself very lucky.

Harnessing the hive mind

I need your help naming a virus.

The book I’m currently outlining revolves around a viral epidemic and I’m struggling to come up with an awesome name for it.

From my research, it appears that virus names come from all sorts of places, including the geographic locations where they’re first spotted (Lassa virus, first identified in a nurse in Lassa, Nigeria), the individuals who study them (Epstein-Barr virus, a herpes virus named after Michael Epstein and Yvonne Barr, who identified and documented it), the family or type of virus to which they belong (BSE, which causes Mad Cow: bovine spongiform encephalitis), or a from a description of their effects on the body (HIV: Human Immunodeficiency Virus).  Sometimes other factors play into the name; when Hanta virus was first identified it was called Sin Nombre (without name).

I don’t want to say too much, as this project is Top Secret, but for my book I’m developing a retrovirus (similar to HIV) that spreads via infected blood cells and (literally) causes an internal transformation within the host.  Right now I’m calling it Kinshasa Viral Metamorphosis (KVM), but I’m not sure I really love this name (nor am I wedded to the viral origin being the Democratic Republic of Congo).

All I care about is having at least some combination of the following:

1. a cool sounding name that abbreviates well

2. a name that lends itself to a nickname for the infected (here’s where I worry my current name breaks down; the only nickname I can think of of is “shasies”, which I fear is lame).

3. a name that implies the victims are changed in a fundamental way

4. a name that alludes to the fact that – beyond its general class (retrovirus) and its spreading mechanism (blood-borne) – the virus is poorly understood

So, here’s where you can help.  I need an awesome virus name with an equally awesome nickname for the infected.  There are many details I haven’t settled on yet (including the names of the people who documented the virus or where it originated), so feel free to use the comments to propose any and all ideas that come to mind.

Please, and thank you!

Walking the balance beam

Out there in the world of writing advice, there always seems to be just two camps.  There’s the “follow the rules” camp and the “there are no rules camp”, there’s the “let your muse guide you” camp and the “gut it out” camp, there’s the “work and practice” camp and the “indefinable art” camp.  There’s the “pants” camp and the “no pants” camp.

But that’s not really right, is it?  As with most things, these aren’t the only camps, just the loudest ones.  I mean, much as we humans love to put things in boxes, to make them clear-cut and easy to align ourselves with, real life is almost always a grey area.

The grey area I’m struggling with right now is the one between inspiration (“let your muse guide you”) and perspiration (“gut it out”).

Some people say they can only write by the light of a full moon, or in nothing but their underwear, or just on the 3rd Thursday of the month, or only at midnight with bonbons and booze.  It’s that “I’m an artiste through whom the ideas flow from on high” mentality; or, more simply put, the idea that you can’t force things.

On the other side of the scale are those who promote the philosophy of “butt in seat, fingers on the keyboard” every day, whether inspiration strikes or not.  But I challenge any of you to claim that you *really* and *truly* follow either of these practices.  Most of us fall somewhere in between, trying to capture fleeting moments of inspired imagination and corral them into our offices, out of our fingers, and onto the page.

But how?

How do we block out the mundane world – the honking horns on the street, the toilets that need to be cleaned, the siren call of the television, the need to go exercise, or a million other things clamoring for our attention – and make space for the fanciful worlds we’re struggling to create and the imaginary friends who occupy them?  Where is the line between being moved and excited about what we’re writing and laboring to hit a certain word count?  How do we balance the inspiration and the perspiration?

This morning, in that muzzy place between sleeping and waking, unwritten scenes from my novel played out in my mind.  The characters were vivid, the drama enthralling.  By the time I woke, though, they’d turned to smoke.  I chased them down the hall, trying to grasp their vapor, but by the time I had my tea and was sitting in front of my computer, they were gone.  I felt bereft, at a loss.

Ah well, so much for inspiration today.  Time to gut it out.

Writer’s Workspace: 1/20

Good morning!  Welcome to this writer’s workspace.  Here’s what’s happening liiiiiiiiiiiiiive at Miranda’s desk:

What I’m working on:  I’ve got two projects going right now.  The first is development for a new book I want to start drafting.  It involves an epidemic, so I’ve been working on building an epidemiological model for the virus.  This has been a fun confluence of research, imagination, and ick-factor.  In the meantime, I’m continuing with revisions to the second draft of my archaeological time travel novel, ABSENT.  I’ve made it about 1/3 of the way into the novel and my characters are currently marooned in Ice Age Wyoming.

Snippet from the screen: “Nick was crouched at the edge of the group, his gaze shifting across the barren, grey landscape.  He looked as if he felt slightly ill.  Emily didn’t blame him.  It was one thing to speculate about traveling through time, but quite another to actually find yourself 11,000 years in the past freezing your ass off on top of a glacial moraine.”

In my mug: White tea with honeysuckle and…honey. 

Keeping me company: Mr. Ramses is not so much keeping me company as begging constantly for food.  He seems to be of the opinion that colder weather = development of a Jabba-like exterior layer of fat.  Fortunately for Ramses (and unfortunately for me), he is an expert, extremely annoying, relentless beggar.  Jabba-the-cat, here we come.

Out the window:  Brooklyn is currently clear, cold, and sunny.  Passersby on the sidewalk are hunched into their coats.  Snow is in the forecast for later today, with the weatherman calling for everyone’s favorite, a “wintery-mix” (read: ice slushie).  Good times.

On the iTunes: to keep my heart warm on such a brittle, cold day, I’m listening to Afro-Cuban jazz and remembering the feel of sunshine on my face and wine in my glass from last week’s vacation to the Napa Valley.  It’s working surprisingly well.

A little procrastination never hurt anyone:  First up: an interesting podcast from Writing Excuses on how to turn protagonists into antagonists (or just add a little twist of the dark side to your good guys).  Second: a link I’ve found very useful lately — a slightly older post from Rachel Aaron’s blog in which she lays out her process for plotting a novel.  It’s very pragmatic and detailed and nuts-and-bolts.  Finally, for those of you interested in my aforementioned trip to Napa, or those of you considering making such a journey yourselves, I’ve blogged a wine country travelogue (with reviews of restaurants, wineries, etc.) over on the food blog I contribute to, Between Courses.  Check it out.

Alrighty!  That’s it for me today.  I’m off to get my characters into more trouble (up next: a run-in with an Ice Age giant bear.  Fun!).  What are YOU doing today?

It’s Alive!

Apologies, folks, for my prolonged absence.  I submit for your consideration several possible reasons for the Great Silence here on Comedy or Tragedy.  Please do pick your favorite (which may, or may not, be the most likely), or propose your own explanation:

Or, maybe the real reason is this.

Now that I’m back, I can say that my absence was rejuvenating.  I’ve got lots of fresh ideas battering round in my head, ready to break out onto the page, as well as a new determination to hammer out the second half of the revisions to ABSENT.

I also intend to keep the blog updated, which should be much easier this semester than last.  Both of my classes this go-round are old preps, so I should have a lot more time to devote to my writing and writing-related activities.  Look for a new installment of Writer’s Workspace later this week.

I’ve missed you all, and it’s good to be back!