Friday, October 28, 2005

NaNoWriMo

I've either done something very brilliant or very stupid.

It's been two years since I started writing THE OLD POWER RETURNS, the sequel to DARKSOME THIRST. I'm about halfway through, but as many of you have realized, I've been saying that for a VERY long time.

There are many reasons for the protracted writing period, but behind it all, when you dig through the excuses and the "life happens" stuff, is the real truth: Fear. Fear of screwing up the second novel, fear of going through that old write-edit-rewrite-edit-chewfingernails-edit-publish cycle again.

So, I've done something to get me off my duff and write through to the end -- in one month.

I'm sort of bending the rules a bit, but I've signed up at National Novel Writing Month (www.NaNoWriMo.org) to write a 50,000-word novel in one month.

To be a little more in line with their philosophy, though (which is to write a brand-new novel from scratch in one month), what I will do is to "end" my current work in the next day or two. On Tuesday, Nov 1, I start where I left off, but as if I were starting another sequel. I will write straight through from that point, at an average of 1667 words a day, until I get to the end. On December 1, I'll merge the two and begin self-editing.

So, wish me luck, and don't expect to hear from me in November!

Morven




What I'm Reading Now...

  • Staying Dead by Laura Anne Gilman
  • The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova
  • Page After Page by Heather Sellers
  • How to Write Killer Fiction by Carolyn Wheat



What I've Finished Reading Recently...

  • The Practical Writer Edited by Therese Eiben and Mary Gannon
  • The Complete Idiot's Guide to Grammar and Style by Laurie E. Rozakis
  • The Song of an Emerald Dove by Xanna Vinson


Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Morven's Radio Adventure, Part 2 of 2

Okay, so in Part 1 I gave you the facts, just the facts: Who was there, what we did, when it occurred, and where it was. Now for the How: How it felt.

At the beginning of my radio adventure, it didn't feel any different from many of the book promotion trips I'm beginning to get used to. The night before I worry about what to bring, what to wear, and how early I have to leave. The morning of the event, I wonder if I remembered the directions and the maps. And of course, I wonder about the weather. This time the weather was a biggie.

Rain doesn't scare me that much. Snow and ice? Different story. But rain, unless it's dark or the rain is torrential, isn't a big deal anymore. It used to be a big deal when I was in my early twenties and had junk cars with nearly bald tires and poor handling, but now that I can afford a safe car with new tires, I'm okay with rain.

It's taken me a few years to realize that I'm okay, though; that the "you hydroplane at 45 miles per hour" rule they taught us in Driver's Ed applied to the cars of that time, not to the cars of today.

But back to my story. At the beginning of the day, my main feeling was slight anxiety over getting to a strange place on time. That worry over with, I was pretty much relaxed. After all, I wasn't the one in the hot seat, and I had fulfilled my role by delivering the star to the show.

I tried to psyche myself up, reminding myself that there could be as many as 200,000 people listening to this little radio station on the north shore, but no dice. I just couldn't get terrified. The host and the guest were just too calm, too natural, too relaxed. And that's all who was in the room -- them and me.

I suppose it would have been different if it had been a television set. Then there would have been lights and camera men and maybe makeup people and so on, but it wasn't. It was just a little radio broadcasting room and three people.

I hear that even at larger radio stations, it isn't much different. You're in a little room with the equipment and that's it. The room we were in was probably as big as the room I use for my office at home. The large pieces of equipment were against the wall and I really couldn't see the dials and knobs and switches that might have been there. Who knows, maybe it's mostly electronic these days and all the action is on a computer monitor.

It was a little bit surreal, but why? Every day I type for hours, connected to an internet of millions, and I'm not really aware that they're there. So why am I surprised when the 200,000 seem so invisible? Maybe it's just because it was such a new experience.

After the interview, we waited politely while Hawthorne announced the next piece of music and then we thanked him and slipped quietly out the door, through an empty building, and back into the rain. His was the last live show of the morning. No other guests were waiting outside the door, no voices animated the halls. It was as empty when we left as when we arrived.

Still, it was an experience. And it was fun.




What I'm Reading Now...

  • The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova
  • Page After Page by Heather Sellers
  • How to Write Killer Fiction by Carolyn Wheat



What I've Finished Reading Recently...

  • The Practical Writer Edited by Therese Eiben and Mary Gannon
  • The Complete Idiot's Guide to Grammar and Style by Laurie E. Rozakis
  • The Song of an Emerald Dove by Xanna Vinson


Pantry bugs, yuckkk

Hubby made a nice Thai curry last night and when I opened the bag of basmati rice, I was greeted with an multitude of larvae. Yuck. Just what I need. It's nearly Halloween, I'm trying to finish decorating, we have an upcoming trip for his parents' wedding anniversary and now I have a research project about pantry bugs -- not to mention cleaning the closet!

Thank goodness for Google, that's all I can say.

I think they're Indian Meal Moths, and I'm not just saying that because they were in a bag of basmati rice from India.

Check out this web page with pictures o'pests

While he finished the curry, I started the cleaning. Fortunately, the bag was on the floor of the pantry and there were few other penetrable containers there.

But you know me, I tend to get philosophical about the most mundane things. These little tiny guys remind me that with all our "civilization," all our technology and science, we're still at the mercy of pantry bugs. Y'know, we can put a man on the moon...

And that, dear reader, was one of the things that I was trying to say in Darksome Thirst: technology, for all its beauty and gifts, has its limits.




What I'm Reading Now...

  • The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova
  • Page After Page by Heather Sellers
  • How to Write Killer Fiction by Carolyn Wheat



What I've Finished Reading Recently...

  • The Practical Writer Edited by Therese Eiben and Mary Gannon
  • The Complete Idiot's Guide to Grammar and Style by Laurie E. Rozakis
  • The Song of an Emerald Dove by Xanna Vinson


Friday, October 14, 2005

Morven's Radio Adventure, Part 1 of 2

Ever wonder what it's like to do a radio broadcast? A number of my friends were fortunate enough to attend colleges that had student radio stations, but, alas, I wasn't, so I've always wondered. When a good friend of mine, Xanna Vinson, told me that she'd be doing a radio interview on WNSH 1570 AM in Beverly, Massachusetts, I was more than happy to offer her a place to stay, and a ride to the station.

The interview was scheduled for 11:30 a.m. on Saturday, which would have been an incredibly decent hour to have to do an interview had we not been at a wedding the night before. It had been an afternoon wedding, though, so by 11:15 p.m. we were not only back at my house, but comfortably collapsed on the couch, watching the evening news.

We probably should have quit while we were ahead and not waited for the weather forecast. They were predicting torrential rains and localized flooding. Since neither of us was familiar with the geography of Beverly, we didn't know if it was prone to flooding. After a few minutes' discussion, we decided to email Hawthorne, the host of Spiral Dance Radio, to ask if we could arrange a telephone interview instead.

Saturday morning found us up and awake and checking email rather early, but there was no reply. We left Hawthorne a phone message with my cell phone number and decided to try the trip anyway. I figured that if the roads were bad, we could always turn around and head home, or, if the roads were REALLY bad and we were stuck seeking shelter somewhere en route, Xanna could possibly even do the phone interview from my cell phone.

But the weather gods were with us and the rain was light. We arrived at the station with a few minutes to spare, having wasted a few of those precious minutes walking in the wrong direction from the parking lot before finding the right building. Though it's a commercial radio station, it's located on the campus of Endicott College, which seems to be one of those campuses that grew in an organic manner, with roads and branches off roads. Hawthorne's directions to the parking lot were excellent, but I think it's just the nature of the campus that makes it hard to describe which end of the building is the front and so on.

Still, we found it, and crept in quietly while Hawthorne announced a selection of music. Quietly we put our stuff and umbrellas down. (Xanna had brought a copy of her book marked with a selection to read on air and I had brought a camera and a notebook.)

Hawthorne quickly set her up with a microphone and went over the plan. Xanna had been one of those lucky folks who had a radio experience in college and seemed comfortable and relaxed as they adjusted the microphone on an extendable metal arm.

I remembered that we had left our water bottles in the car and thought it would be a good idea to have some on hand. Hawthorne told me where I could find a water fountain and vending machines and I ran off in search of water. By the time I returned, they had already started the interview. I had paused before entering so that I could open the bottle of water outside the door and not in the room where the pop would either show up on the air or, at the very least, distract Xanna. I figured the microphones were probably unidirectional, but I had to idea how sensitive they were or what their pick-up pattern was.

Gently opening the door, I slipped in and tried to put the bottle down on the desk quietly and then slink back to my seat. Xanna and Hawthorne didn't seem to miss a beat, but I still found myself holding my breath, hoping that I wasn't breathing too loudly. Listening to Xanna talk, I finally got absorbed in the subject and was able to relax.

They were both naturals, so natural in fact, that I sometimes found myself wanting to just jump into the conversation, as if we were sitting in a living room, just having a quiet chat! I managed to keep my mouth shut without duct tape, though, and was able to listen quietly to Xanna describe the concept of a sentient earth and how that figured into her novel The Song of an Emerald Dove.

Hawthorne is a very good interviewer. He asked really intelligent questions, having read the book himself. He also fully listened to her answers before going on to his next question. He threw in one unexpected question about crop circles which resulted in a second of dead air before she warmly chided him about throwing her a curve ball, but she answered well and he responded with some interesting theories of his own.

Too soon it was over and we found ourselves heading back south on Rte 128, a road that used to leave me white-knuckled and sweating, but which now paled against the novel experience of the radio broadcast.

For more information on Spiral Dance Radio, visit (www.spiraldanceradio.com).

For more information on Xanna Vinson and her new novel, visit (www.xannavinson.com).

-- Morven




What I'm Reading Now...

  • The Practical Writer Edited by Therese Eiben and Mary Gannon
  • Page After Page by Heather Sellers
  • How to Write Killer Fiction by Carolyn Wheat
  • The Complete Idiot's Guide to Grammar and Style by Laurie E. Rozakis



What I've Finished Reading Recently...

  • The Song of an Emerald Dove by Xanna Vinson
  • Haunted Newport by Eleyne Austen Sharp