What I did with my night, courtesy of TotallyLooksLike.com

Where are the tongs? And other stories.

I know I said I was going to be better, but things haven't settled down in the slightest at my house. First, the significant other got a new job with hours (for the most part) opposite of mine, so I'm spending what time we both have off with him.

Then, about two weeks ago, one of our computers died. It's technically his, but since he's been gaming way more than me lately, I told him to use my totally AWESOME computer for that, and I would just use his older one for my own business. Then one morning I turned it on, and it blue screened. Don't you just LOVE stop errors? I haven't looked too much into it, but I think we might be able to do something about it. I just haven't had the time to geek out over it.

One thing is for sure though. I am definitely glad I had all my novels/notes/other important documents backed up simultaneously on three flash drives and the other computer. I don't think I lost anything, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Then, Saturday was Vinny's cousin Suzie's wedding. Thus, his family was in town. The original plan was for his mother and brother to stay with us for the duration of their trip, but that idea was (thankfully) later tossed aside in favor of a hotel.

And I couldn't be happier.

The day of the wedding was a nightmare. I woke up to 45 degree weather with wind gusts of nearly 65MPH. Thank God it was planned as an indoor wedding. We spent almost an hour and a half on Saturday driving around looking for two small sets of metal tongs. We went to 15 different stores in the Ogden area to find them. Not. One. Pair.

Inorite?

Instead of champagne and the toasts at the wedding, Suzie and David had a candy bar.

Best. Idea. Ever.

Gummy bears, M&M's, cinnamon bears, those pastel mint thingys, swedish fish, those green and white sour apple rings, colorful sugary fruit wedges, dots...it was glorious, I tell you!

The ceremony was beautiful and the reception went well. The four different cakes were AMAZING. There was carrot cake, double chocolate raspberry...I'm making myself hungry now.

The day after the wedding, Vinny's family went back to California. Monday I spent the day NOT packing, since that morning I discovered that my driver's license had expired on May 31 (oops!) and I had to take a cross-country flight the next day. So I trudged my way over to the DMV--or whatever they call it nowadays--and got my temporary I.D. When I got home, I got changed and we went to the park for our weekly socialization. We played Ultimate Frisbee in the park with the church crew, which was a ton of fun.

Monday night I cooked an 11lb. turkey breast for Vinny to eat while I'm gone, finally packed my stuff, and went to bed around 3am. I woke up at 11 the next morning, double checked my stuff, and was transported to the SLC airport.

My first flight was fine. I arrived in Denver at 4pm and found the gate for my next flight, from Denver to Newark Liberty, which was scheduled for a 5:44 departure. I hung around, worked a bit, lugged my too-heavy bag around to the bathroom, a coffee stop, quesadilla run, another bathroom stop, and half a dozen times to check the boards for my flight status: Delayed.

That's all it said. No time, no reason, no NOTHING. So I headed up to the desk and asked the attendant what in the blazes was going on with my flight. He told me it was moved a few gates down, and that it was delayed indefinitely, and he had no idea why.

I grabbed my bags and huffed it over to the new gate and waited. And waited. Then I waited some more. Finally, I got sick of waiting and asked the attendant at the current gate what was going on.

The response?

"There was a problem with the plane. They're trying to find a new one. They're going to make a decision at 8."

This was, of course, pushed back (and, surprise! pushed back again). To a final arrival time of 9:35. OH. MY. GOD!

So there I was, sitting in the Denver airport with nothing to do. I had work I didn't want to do and a book I didn't want to read, and plenty of music that I didn't want to listen to. So I did what I knew always sucked up more time than I had, no matter how long that may be.

I called Nana.

That's right, my Nana. We talked for hours about everything and everything you could imagine. We talked about my books, we talked about her lasik surgery, we talked about my uncle's new hobby-- he's become a certified falconer and recently bought a puppy to use as a bird dog, we discussed that my sister still didn't know I was coming home for her high school graduation, and whether or not I was eating right, and much, much more.

When my flight landed in Newark at 3:15am, I dragged my luggage up and down stairs and escalators and through hallways trying to find ONE open bathroom.

Yes, my oblivious baby sister was surprised that I was there when they pulled up to the airport. She had actually believed my dad when he told her he was going on a business trip for a few days. I can give her that one, because he does travel a lot. But what I can't get over is the fact that when she drove there with him, he told her to follow the sign that said "ARRIVALS" because, "That's for people arriving at the airport. Departures are for people leaving the airport." And she totally bought it.

We got home at 4:45am, I plopped my things down and was asleep before I hit the mattress. Unfortunately, I woke up again when I landed on the 17 pound family cat, Tigger. And let me tell you, Tigger is not a friendly feline.

My dad thought it would be nice to make me breakfast this morning. And yes, it was nice to wake up and have breakfast and coffee waiting for me. But he woke me up at 1pm. I had to explain to him that New Jersey is on fake time, and the time was actually 11am, which is way to early to be up on a day off after spending 15 hours between going to the airport, being at the airport, flying, and going home from the airport.

I think I'm done narking for now. Night.

In the raw.

Vinny has never really been interested in my writing, but he still manages to ask me a few times a week when I'm going to be done. Last night we were watching a movie and he reached over to my desk and grabbed one of my composition notebooks. This particular one had notes for a very raw version of Eleven. Now don't get me wrong, I'd love it if he'd read TFI or even TiC. But something about him looking at something so unediting and well…bad… that really got to me. Needless to say I grabbed it out of his hand after five straight minutes of him keeping it from me.

He asked me what had gotten into me. I didn't really have an answer for him at the time. But thinking back, I realize why I did that. Yes, I want him to read TFI, because it's done. Because I'm ready for my baby to go out into the world. If I still had reservations about someone reading it, it wouldn't be ready. But Eleven is still an infant. I can't just dress it in a suit and tie, strap a briefcase to its wrist and turn it loose on the world. Blimey!

It makes me wonder if anyone else feels that way.

Book Review: Storm Thief

As a new thing for the blog, I'm going to be doing book reviews. It will be a combination of ARCs, newly published and some older books. I decided to start this off with Storm Thief by Chris Wooding, a British author. Many of you may have not heard of him. This is a book I bought a few years ago and read. I recently read it again and decided to review it.

I have to admit that I'm a sucker for a good cover. I'm really biased when it comes to the cover. For example, I have an aversion to any book that has those drawn neutral colored wooded/mountain scenes with the hero and his maiden/sword/horse/a dragon. You know what I'm talking about. But I saw the cover of Storm Thief and loved it. Then I read the inside cover (hardcover also a plus).

"Anything can happen…at any time.

Rail and Moa are thieves in a city of chaos. For as long as anyone can remember, Orokos has been lashed by probability storms – violent tempests that change whatever they touch. When a probability storm hits, streets are rearranged, children are turned to glass, rivers break from their banks, and life suddenly becomes death. Nothing is stable. Everyone is vulnerable.

Rail has struggled with the effects of one such storm for years; when he was hit, he lost the ability to breathe freely. Moa has also seen her share of struggle – as the daughter of dead rebels, as an outcast, as a criminal…."

And it goes on from there. I was hooked. I took it home and read it immediately. I liked it enough to read it twice. I'll probably read it again.

First of all, this is one of those books I read and thought, "Damn, why didn't I think of that?" For example, early on we are introduced to the Mozgas, one of the byproducts of a probability storm. They are humanlike, but they are out of sync with time. They can move super fast, but in an instant be going so slowly that they seem to be at a standstill. Cool, right? I certainly think so. The concepts in this book are way cool, including probability storms themselves.

As the story goes, it's easy to follow. It's pretty straightforward. You won't be getting lost. It follows Rail and Moa and a golem named Vago as they run from the city guards and Revenants, manta-ray like spirits who kill people with a touch. (Think the Final Fantasy: Spirits Within minus the lameness.)

I hated the villains, felt sympathy for the good guys…the only problem for me was that I cared about Vago way more than Rail and Moa. It was hard for me to connect with them. By the end, Vago was definitely my favorite.

The story is great, the character connection is lacking when it comes to Rail and Moa, but Vago makes up for it.

I really recommend it for anyone who likes fantasy, even if it is YA.

Grape Juice

I'm alive! Yes, that's right. I am, in fact, not dead. Had you going there, didn't I? Consider it my March/April/part of May Fool's joke.

But seriously, it's been hectic. Other than keeping up with the 2YN stuff, I have done almost no writing at all. Shocked? Me too. But just because I haven't written anything doesn't mean that I haven't been working! No dears, I've gotten some great ideas. It's been crazy over here with trying to get ready to move again. Sigh. What can you do, though?

I've also been rather out of touch with JM and Vic. L

I looked back at my last query version yesterday, and…yikes. This is why you should always leave what you write to sit and ferment before you drink it. I mean, do you want grape juice or wine? That's what it comes down to. If you pop the cork and send out your query/ms/short a week after you've "finished" it, your dinner guests are getting the grape juice. I'm not saying you should let it age for twelve years. But give it enough time. Set it aside and let it sit. Forget about it. Work on something else. Then come back to it. I promise, you'll see the difference.

The good, the bad, and the stupid

Project: TFI

Looked at: Chapter 1-30

Starting word count: 79,352

Ending word count: 81,732

Gain/Loss: +2,380

Biggest Problem: Chapter 28 needed to be completely rewritten.

Favorite line:
Must I really choose just one?

Daily WTF: How did I manage to write an entire chapter that didn't really advance the plot? And how did I not wrap up the biggest subplot in the novel? Beats me.

___________________________________________________________________________________

I'd like to announce that TFI is D.O.N.E! I'm still waiting to hear back from Vic and one other person, but J.M. has the rewrite in her inbox. After six years, I'm ready to wash my hands of this. I'll be sad to see it go, but I plan on moving on to other things very, very shortly. Besides, it's time for TFI to get out and see the world…or at least an agent's inbox.

On the other side of that, J.M. recently agreed to critique an erotica novel. This novel was 133,163 words long. Bugger and blast! 562 pages of bloomin' erotica! J.M. spent two full days straight critting this novel for this chick. The whole time, she was telling me how drawn out it was, but that she wanted to finish it for this person, because that's just how J.M. is. After being tortured by redundant shagging scenes and slogging through a manuscript that's 4/5 dialogue, she reaches the end. Which, she's happy to say, was kinda cool. Overall, it was a dog's dinner.

She sent the crit to the writer, and gets this response. "Don't mind the bluntness in the least, but I'm going to take the "It's too loooong! with a huge grain of salt. It probably IS too long, but I figure if it's accepted my publisher will take a knife to it."

Seriously? You stupid wanker! You really think any agent is going to take a 133k erotica seriously? What agent is going to look at that query and say, "Hmm. A hundred and thirty-three thousand word erotica. Of course I'll take a look at it! I didn't have anything else planned for the next month, so I'll sit here and do the writer's job for them." She's daft, that one.

Sorry sweetheart, but you need to get a grip. You're bloody barmy! It makes me so mad that I'm going British all over the place. Someone was nice enough to slug through your doorstop of a manuscript, and you have the bleedin' audacity to throw all of their time out the window by saying you're not going to change it, because that's the agent/publisher's job? Editing your manuscript is a DIY kind of thing. Don't try to pawn it off on someone who has better things to do with their time.

Agents have clients. Clients are their lifeblood. Successful clients are the ones who pay the agent's rent at the end of the month. You are just some silly bird who wastes three minutes of the agent's time while they read your query, get to the length, laugh, and form reject your stupid arse. At least they might get a kick out of the attempt. If you get anything other than a form rejection, I'll eat my shorts.

I'm definitely in one hell of a nark right now.

Anatomy of a bad critique

I've given myself a deadline for editing. If I'm not done by March 31, I'm not allowed to go Frisbee Golfing this year. If that doesn't get my ass into gear, nothing will.

Since I'm being so strict about this deadline, I've asked some fellow writers over at Forward Motion to take a look. Got the first one back today, and after reading through the six pages of critique, it was obvious that they just didn't get it. Last time, I talked about the importance of a critique partner. Now, I want to talk about the anatomy of a bad critique.

I'll start off by admitting that reading the critique in question made me mad.

Some of the points brought up were valid, and I plan on addressing.

Example 1 : There are times on each of the missions where both the first and last name of a character are used independently, thus causing confusion. This is a legitimate point.

Example 2 : There is a point where Jana takes off her uniform and bathes in the lagoon. For some reason, I have her unzipping her uniform, doing something, zipping it back up, and then getting in the water and unzipping it to take it off and bathe. Redundant. This is a legitimate point.

Some of the points made it clear that they had no idea what was going on.

Example 3: "Why couldn't they use the drug to stop them?" (This is the actual question she asked, pertaining to a situation in the novel about the terrorists unleashing a biochemical toxin). Seriously? She really asked that? Maybe because it was concentrated stuff, and it was a SURPRISE ATTACK! The medicine she's talking about must be injected, but the toxin's kill rate is a matter of minutes. Not to mention, it's an experimental treatment that when used on Jana made her extremely sick.

Example 4: "Characters are not military enough." This is another example of blatant misunderstanding of the text. There is a very real reason why the characters, military, and government are the way they are. It tells you why.

So what's the difference? A helpful critique will touch on both the positive and negative aspects. Gushing over the good parts shouldn't be so much for the author's ego than to show them what it is they're doing right, what's working for them. The bad comments should be paid attention to if and only if the reviewer's remarks make it clear that they get what's going on, or if it is like the first two Examples.

To compare, I'll use one of J.M.'s comments.

Good Critique: If I were a little girl, and I saw someone holding a gun at my daddy, I'd be scared. The child shows too much indifference. Sure, it helps the plot, but you're missing another chance for more conflict. Kids aren't stupid. They sense tension, it makes them uneasy, and they cry. Even if she didn't know that Jana wanted to hurt her daddy, she would still squirm in her arms, cry, grabby-hand at her daddy, etc. She'd be nervous because her daddy was unnerved and anxious. (This is a legitimate point.)

Bad Critique: "At some point, the sun set and they turned on the artificial lights" Odd for some reason I thought they weren't on a planet. (Note: It is clear they're not on a planet, because it says so in the sentence before it. The station is orbiting the planet like a satellite, so they have night and day to a degree, even if it is only through the windows of the station.)