What you really know.

What you really know.

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Good vibrations

Hey there hi there ho there.

First in today's update:

My publisher, Snowbooks, has started an online magazine called White Magazine. It's still very new, but they plan to update weekly, hopefully. I've submitted the two 'essays' Michel did (vampires in cinema), so far. We'll see when/if those show up. There will be other stuff from Snowbooks authors each update!

Second in today's update:

Atonement around 67,000 words at this very moment. After a spate of just not quite feeling like it, I've had a little run this evening, inching closer and closer to the oh my god shit is hitting the fan big time moments. That should be fun. :P

Third thing is something I'd like to call coolest thing that happened last week. One of my regular clients informed me that he has a bazillion frequent flier miles, because he is always travelling for business. He actually said he'd get me a ticket to France when I can go. Now...this still leaves me needing some savings and money to spend there (yeah, no time soon) but him offering was just too cool.

One day...

That's about all I have for today. I am drinking some red wine and eating chocolate chip cookies, making the most of this evening since I go back to work tomorrow. Er. Today, I guess.

P.S.

Who else is watching TRUE BLOOD?

This season is gonna be off the hook!

And I'm spent.

40,767.

Ended up doing a lot of research on some little things so didn't get farther than that. Little details that matter. How much will be used out of everything I looked up, who knows, but I have it. Those small things can make all the difference.

Phew.
Hungry.
Spent for now.
Look at that other novel later. Maybe.

Squirrels not so shy today. Coffee press—kewl. French, pas mal.

Crap, the ink in my printer is low.
Still haven't mopped floor. Later!

That is all—brain semi-fried, at least till I eat, maybe.

Not too shabby.

Hey, hey. Winding down my second day off here. Let's see what I've accomplished so far.

My walks yesterday and today. Most of the squirrels are hiding, though. They must be fed up with peanuts. I shall try to tempt them with junkfood more tomorrow.

French lessons? Er, un petit peu, today. I did snag a very nice dictionary yesterday, a Collins French dictionary. Also, my cheap coffee maker died. So I got a French press deal. That count?
Actually, it's great. I now have a bit more counter space, won't use that little bit of electricity, and don't need filters. Hey, every little thing...

House wise, been doing some good cleaning. Laundry and dishes too, even!
Must mop floor.

Bills and mail. Check.

Now onto the really good stuff. I've been throwing some words at Atonement. Approaching 38,000. That's 5,000 up. Earlier today I set myself a small goal. Hit 40,000. I do believe that'll happen, oh, once I stop piddling about in LJ.

And I still have tomorrow! Yes, that's right, an extra day! Perhaps I'll throw some shit words at the other novel, too, who knows? The suspense is killing me, how 'bout you? It's currently hovering around 25,000.

Finally: GO LOOK AT THIS

EVIL!! ;-)

Annnnd...
Yeah that's it.

Drabbles

Ah, well, obviously nothing terribly exciting going on over here. Atonement is around 33,000 words. I haven't gone back to Deepest Fears in a while, but I still know exactly where to pick it up. I just haven't felt like it, been into it, lately.

I received Innocent Blood and watched it last night. Enjoyed it quite a bit!

Other than that, it was a nice day to be in the park. I enjoyed throwing squirrels at peanuts immensely.

Er. I mean...

Hasn't left me yet...

Atonement just went to 30,260 words.
Reaching that first 30,000 seems to be one of those "happy to be over the hump" things for me. It's more than a quarter, if shy of a third of the way through my usual length with these. So thirds, yeah, those sound really good. I'm thinking that hitting this number in some way eases my brain. My brains says: Yes. We have a novel going, here. You'll finish it.

Deepest fears is at 21,126. I didn't go back to it today, but it's sitting in a place that I can pick it up. I know what's next. Where it's heading. So I feel...safe, as it were. There's no feeling that if I don't keep pounding at it even when I'm tired, it'll fly out of my head forever.

Good stuff.

Back to work tomorrow. Ah, well. It never lasts, this time off. But I don't detest the idea of being there, like some other jobs I've had. You know, the ones where you are nearly ill just thinking about going. Last work week went by pretty fast, really. It's not like my hours are horrible.

Some joy?

Last night I had a small bout of writing. In the wee hours, really. About 3,000 words. I've had larger surges, but I'm not complaining, because I started to feel some excitement again.

Just now I added another 1,000 or so, and have lots of little flashes on what else goes into the novel, Deepest Fears.

I dabbled a bit with a couple scenes in Atonement as well. Didn't add a lot, but I'm happy with the results.

Yippee!

Just taking a break now because I have some around the house chores to get back to while things percolate. I think I've hit the time of day where I feel least like writing. I've been thinking on it and it seems to go in segments—its own schedule. I'm sure as we drift towards night, the next segment will arrive. Gotta have that time away, you know, so it doesn't seem like work, and so I don't feel like I've let everything else go to hell, including some other type of fun time. Or heck, studying some more French.

Thanks all, for the encourgement and such the other day. It's deeply appreciated.

In which Michel states: Joy? Did I hear that you were in need of joy?

For those who've not met him, I would like to present one Michel Lecureaux, who, in-between doing serious vampire business (he has to rule a country of vampires, after all), eviscerating those who deserve it (which all depends on his point of view), and seducing whomever takes his fancy (all the while never actually cheating on his beloved), also has a host of other hobbies.

One of them is turning up just when I need him, which is why I forgive him when he drives me crazy for his own amusement. Well, I forgive him for other reasons as well, but we'll stop there. (He knows I love him, the imp.)

He has graciously offered to write some essays of a sort. I say of a sort, as with him, they could go anywhere, and often do. I hope you find him charming, amusing, and please do humor him. He does love praise. He's a bit more relaxed, shall I say, here than in the books. For good reason.

Alright, the floor is yours, Michel:


Greetings, my beautiful children, and those soon to be my beautiful children. The infamous Michel Lecureaux, at your service. I was asked if I might like to share my views on vampires in cinema, to which I replied I might indeed. Thus, here I am.

I pondered many ways in which I might begin such an article; with a bit of history, perhaps? With comparisons to the real and the imagined? Should I attempt a time line of some sort?

As often there is little resemblance betwixt the real and the imagined—what's that you say? You believe that with all of the literature and movies in existence, that surely there must be some truth swimming about in the soup of legends?

Very well, I'll leave off pretense. Mais oui, there are some truths in your literature. One reason for this, is that even vampires take pen names. We are everywhere, darlings. You may now find yourself asking Michel, my dear Michel; which, then, are pure fantasy, and which, then, are accurate?

This is no simple matter, darlings. Not all vampires are created equal, this is your first lesson. In fact, even I find some of them so repulsive that I destroy them on sight, afterward desperately wishing to bleach my eyes and nostrils. Unfortunately, I can't stand the scent of bleach, not that it would matter. By the gods, you humans are obsessed with germs, aren't you? Do you not realize that for a healthy immune system, one must build the immunity, which means, one needs a certain bit of exposure to germs?

Ah, I do beg pardon. I am digressing quite a bit. As I tend to do things my own way, I should inform you now, that this will be a common occurrence, as I am in a rather capricious mood. What this means when I am writing, is that I shall begin with a thought, and allow it to run at will. If you are game, do please continue reading.

Vampires in cinema, this was the subject, oui?
(Tut. Did you really believe that I would share the secrets of vampiredom with the free world? My, how sorely mistaken you find yourself now. Very well, as I'm feeling generous at the moment, I will share this. There are truths, there are lies, and there are grey areas in your fictions. Discuss this amongst yourselves as you will.)

Fright Night! Yes, I shall begin here. How deliciously campy this movie is. I shall also give Chris Sarandon full marks for being rather sexy—even with that deformed mouth as he shifts. However, if there are vampires who turn into bats, I daresay they do it with much more style, and are far more convincing, though it was an improvement over rubber bats on fishing poles, ala Legosi's era. Yes, darlings, I know. They worked with what was available to them at the time. This does not make it any less ridiculous, do we agree?

Now then, where was I? Fright Night. On the viscera scale, one must appreciate, I think, a minion who expires in a gush of green slime whilst his flesh melts from his bones. Rather inventive, though personally I prefer my minions to be filled with far tastier fluids, and prefer them far less zombie-like.

What's this? You're surprised that I opt to begin my musings with a nineteen eighties B flick? Why, it has achieved cult status! It pays homage to many other films!

What's this? What of Dracula, you say?

I say, what of him. But Michel, I hear you thinking. He is the grandfather of all vampires!

I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, children, but this is a load of tripe. Blood thirsty he was. Immortal he was not. Furthermore, he was not the first fictional Immortal. Pity, however. I should like to have met him.

I hear you yet again. I hear very well, you must realize. Michel, if you discuss movies, they're all fictional, are they not? Therefore, why not discuss Dracula?

I grant you this. But this is my essay, and quite frankly, I tire of Dracula this, Dracula that, the mighty Dracula. Pssh. I would have snapped him like a cigarette between my fingers. Furthermore, I am aware that some of you expected me to begin with Vlad. This may be an opportune time to inform you that I do not like to be what's expected.

This is not to say I haven't enjoyed Dracula in film. Some more than others, certainly. If I am feeling generous the next time we meet, I may discuss one of my favorites.

Ah, but I must now take my leave, as I am in the mood for a blood letting. Mine, that is. Ponder this as you will. Certain of you will undoubtedly guess the source of this particular shift in mood.

I shall return with more thoughts another time.

Ciao for now.

The philosophy of...

This morning as I was easing into the idea of work before having to open the shop (the day job), I had a discussion with myself— yes I do this often, as well as talking with my characters—about why it is I haven't been writing the way I did with the first and second novels. (We won't talk about the third, in which I drove myself crazy before finishing it. But I survived it having learned something.) Why it is that for days on end, I might not touch the two novels I'm to be working on right now. Especially the stand alone novel, as I was so gung ho when I got the idea and started it.

I listed all kinds of things, and I agreed with myself that there are some valid points. But I'm not going to list them here, because in the last hour, I've come to the realization that perhaps the biggest problem at the moment (and the constant listing of things in my head and starting to worry over it certainly contribute to this) is that I've lost some of the fun of writing. The process. I'm dangerously close to making this seem like work. It already is skirting work at times. This was never supposed to be work, and you know what I mean, as of course, I'm not saying that writing doesn't take work.

Where is my joy? It seems awfully soon to have lost it.

I need it back. I need that rush of a good scene that makes me giddy and makes me keep going. Stop analyzing and just keep going. I had it in the opening of book four for the Paris Immortal series. I had it when I started Deepest Fears. But so soon it fled, with me nagging myself over details and oh shit, what comes next worries.

This morning, I'd given myself ideas for getting back to writing, and felt very inclined to get to it once I got off work. But then I got off work, and here I sit, not feeling so gung ho. Feeling a bit mentally drained.

I'm sure this won't last forever. I know we all have the "oh god I'm spent, I'll never have another idea" sorts of times. I just wish I could truly shut off the one voice in my head that's not helping matters—my little voice. Just for a while. Then perhaps I could pay more attenion to my characters who are likely just as present as they always were, but can't get through the MUCK in my brain.

This was never supposed to be a chore. Normally it isn't. But at the moment, I realize I've been avoiding it like it's a chore.

I need a good mental slap.

And...that is all. I'm going to drink the wine I didn't end up guzzling the other night, and see if I can relax this mental grip. This isn't really "classic" writer's block (whatever that is), as I worried and wondered a couple of weeks ago. No, I believe this is me blocking myself.

I'm off now to see if I can find my joy. It's around here somewhere, I've just misplaced it.

Writing or something like it.

The return of the day job, already? Yes, today I'm back to the day job. (Well, in another couple of hours.) 

Last night I had a bout of writing, which is good, because for nearly two weeks I haven't. I can't decide whether it's just that I've been feeling lazy, didn't really know which part to write next, or...some combination of these and other things. I was beginning to feel very guilty about it, though, this week.

So, Paris Immortal: Atonement, got a boost to 26,122 words, from sitting at 20,000 for a time. Much was floating scenes, though I ended up finding a place for the last one I set down, getting some forward, linear progress. I thought I would do more this morning, but I, ah, slept in. I will blame female issues. Yeah. Besides. Every scene I wrote last night had no real comedy relief, and I was drained, drained I say. Oi.

Deepest fears still hovers around 19,000 after a 7,000 word binge a week and a half ago, or so. I really should get back on that one, now that I feel better about having progress on the PI series.