The Yellow Balloons

Like many Americans, I was transfixed to my television yesterday as news of the bombing at the Boston Marathon unfolded. The initial explosion was replayed countless times until I couldn't look anymore. I had thought that through constant watching, I would somehow numb myself to it, but instead only became more distraught each time the concussive blow went off. The one thing that caught my eye amid all of the chaos, and kept me watching, was the bunch of yellow balloons.

There is an initial jarring, and movement forward, then immediate release up to the sky as the holder of those balloons’ life changed forever. One can’t help but wonder if it was a child holding those strings tightly and possessively as children do of things full of wonderment and delight, only to have it ripped away. It’s a disturbing thought; and one I can’t seem to get out of my head. Life can change in a nanosecond, in the best but more often, worst of ways. It’s how we respond to these tragedies that make us who we are as a nation. 

And the responders were many.

Another thought I had while watching the terror unfold was of people’s response to the event. You see some running away in fear, and some rushing in to help. I even asked myself the question: What would you do? Would you run away? Or would you run in to help? I’d like to think if I didn't have my son with me, I would run in to help, but I can’t know that for sure. Can anyone know what they would really do? Is there anything wrong with running in fear? Of course not. There was complete chaos and confusion. It’s human nature to want to protect yourself and your loved ones. That being said, it’s practically unnatural to run towards mayhem instead of away, but yet people did it. The sight of volunteers, police, National Guard, and even just bystanders ripping that fence away to get to the wounded was inspiring, and shows the true heart of our nation.

This attack, from whoever it was, was not the first, and unfortunately most likely won’t be the last. We are all reminded of previous events that have tried, but failed, to shake our resolve. We are a free country. We have an open society. And the world is a dangerous place. It is a hard fact to live with, but somehow we do. We go on; a little thicker skinned, and a little more wary.

Tragedy can strike anywhere, and anytime, but I am heartened in light of those yellow balloons lifting untethered to the heavens, that there are courageous souls willing to run in to help.

Do It Anyway

You've all probably seen this in one form or another, I'm sure. I ran across it the other day and felt the need to post it here. It's most commonly credited to Mother Teresa, but there are other sources for it as well. Whoever wrote it, it's message stands true still:

Do It Anyway

People are often unreasonable, illogical and self centered;

Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;

Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;

Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;

Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;

Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;

Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;

Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;

Give the world the best you've got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God;

It was never between you and them anyway.

Start From the Dark

Between work, travelling, buying a new car, trying unsuccessfully to get my son into an adult day program, my two (or three) World of Warcraft raid nights, random karaoke nights, following the London Olympics, catching up on Doctor Who, and all the other run-on-sentence-adding adventures, I’ve had no time to write. Even in my down time, I find myself either reading or vegging out on the TV, or now – God help me – playing SongPop on Facebook (It’s addictive. You’ve been warned); and Indigo sits, patiently twiddling his fictional thumbs.

My new Baby.

I will get there. Trust me. It’s been approximately two weeks now that nothing new has gone into Indigo, but I do sense some new material on the not-too-distant horizon. A quick break can be a good thing - giving the mind time to relax a little from the pressure of telling an intense and complicated story. I can now go back to it a little fresher, with a more objective eye. That’s the goal anyway.

Being busy for me is a good thing. It helps lift my mood. As my sis-in-law said today: A non-busy me makes my mind do “dark things.” It was really an apropos way to put it. 

One of my favorite Europe songs is “Start From the Dark,” and if you think about it – it truly is a good place to start. When you have "dark things" in your mind, no matter what they are - they can be a seed for creativity; a launching board for brighter things. 

Here are the lyrics, they’ve always hit home for me:

Thought you were ordinary

Would not amount to much

I guess they never knew you

You found the place they couldn't touch

Said you were nothing special

Always kept to yourself

You had to fight your own way

There's always been touch too much at stake.

What you gonna do?

'Cause you're just like me

What you gonna do?

Tonight, this is where we go

To find out who we really are

We've got nothing left to lose

Tonight, this is how we breathe

To put some strength back in our hearts

We've got nothing left to lose

We start from the dark

You'll never pass for someone

Who'll find a place in line

You'd sooner take that last breath

Than give away your heart and mind

What you gonna do?

'Cause you're just like me

What you gonna do?

Tonight, this is where we go

To find out who we really are

We've got nothing left to lose

Tonight, this is how we breathe

To put some strength back in our hearts

We've got nothing left to lose

We start from the dark

Start from the dark

Start From The Dark lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

Now it’s time to take Abbey to the vet. Yay…

Here’s to keeping away the “dark things.”

Chew ‘em Up. Spit ‘em Out. Pass.

Not quite two weeks ago I sent the first 60 pages of Indigo to a critiquing service for a paid manuscript review. I will not be promoting this service by giving out their name here, but if you would like to know who it is, feel free to message me personally. The service was to notify me that:

1. they received my manuscript;
2. who it was assigned to for the critique; and
3. the turnaround time.

I did not receive that information as promised. When I followed up within a week of submission, I was told they don’t give out the name of the person performing the critique “due to other work agreements that they have,” and that the turnaround time was 4-6 weeks. That was last Thursday.

In the interest of full disclosure, and as you may be able to tell from my tone – the review was not good.

I received my critique in less than a week, and the critique itself had spelling errors in it. I’m still shaking my head that a paid editor doesn’t know the difference between desert and dessert. Really? And I paid real money for this?  Also, the anonymity of this so-called editor is still bothering me as well – what were their credentials? How am I sure they even have an interest in the genre I’m writing? How do I know they have any credentials at all?

The service was to include the following:

• 12-16 pages of detailed notes on premise, plot structure, pacing, characters, dialogue and marketability
• A graph-based "Emotional Response" chart
• A rating on the "Pass, Consider, or Recommend" scale
• A one-page synopsis to use as a "leave behind" when you get that all-important meeting

It was NOT to include this:

• Rewrite or revise for you, except in the case of providing an example of how to revise on your own.
• Correct grammar, mechanics, and spelling. (Our *** service does correct grammatical errors, including punctuation, capitalization, verb tense, spelling and sentence structure.) However, the story analyst will point out any patterns of surface-level error that may pose a significant problem for you.
• Correct for Industry-Standard Formatting. However the story analyst will point out general and repetitive formatting errors throughout the manuscript.
• Provide any fact-checking.
• Provide answers or advice on legal issues

What I did receive:

• Barely 12 pages of notes, 4 of which were lists of minor grammatical errors
• Instead of a one-page synopsis to "leave behind" when I get that all-important meeting, I got a two page book report giving a blow-by-blow account of each chapter
• One paragraph on concept
• One paragraph on pacing
• Absolutely nothing about marketability

Disappointed? You betcha.

Mind you – they did have some good points in their critique. In my constant changing of PoV and tense, some grammatical mistakes were left in. Okay – mention it and move on – don’t give me four pages listing out each one.

There were a couple questions/suggestions regarding the storyline and characters that were worth my consideration – but not worth what I paid for this crap.

I think the main problem here (and I could be wrong because I’ll never know who the editor is), is that the person who read this was expecting a full-blown science fiction story, when I clearly stated in my submission that it was ROMANCE/sci-fi/fantasy. It’s barely even sci-fi really, as it’s a character driven suspense story, not a science driven story. They even say in the overall notes: “…the romantic tension between our hero and heroine is palpable (and very satisfying for readers).” DUH! That’s the point of a romance novel you twit!

When I first read the critique I was pretty devastated. My writing is crap yet again. The second time through I noticed their grammatical errors, and the apparent haste at which the critique was prepared. As I continue to analyze it, I see that what I’ve written is completely outside of their element and experience. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not completely dismissing their review because it was negative. As I mentioned, there were some good points given, and they’ve been duly noted. I just don’t feel that I received what I paid for. And that is truly disappointing.

With all that being said, my writing may still be crap – but I don’t think the person that got paid to critique my work was necessarily the best to judge that.

Oh, and by the way – here is my ‘graph-based "Emotional Response" chart’:

Not bad for the beginning of a suspense novel I’d say…

The New Blog Do

Just like my emotional hair, I got bored with the way my blog looked, so I changed the template. I initially started looking at WordPress templates, but didn’t want to bother with actually working on something new. I’m in too lazy a mood to muck around with learning. Luckily Blogger has added some new templates that don’t look totally stupid. So, here it is.

I do miss my calla lily picture though. But, it’s still on my website, so I guess it’s okay that it’s not here. Kind of makes the name of the blog a little silly now… but you’ll have that. Silly me.

Here she is...

 What do you guys think of the new layout?


Oh - and if you're looking at this on a mobile device - you get something totally different... just an fyi. :)

The 3:00 A.M. Blog

It’s going on 3:00 A.M., and I want to write something. Anything that isn’t Indigo. Don’t get me wrong, it’s going fine and dandy – I just felt like writing something else. I need to get out of my characters’ heads for a while.

There's no one in the place - except you and me...

So is this finally a blog about how well the writing is going? Apparently so. I’ve been on quite a tear the last few weeks. Not making a ton of forward progress, but doing a lot of editing and shaping; fine tuning, if you will. It feels good for a change, and I think it may be because I’m forcing myself to do it. I have a finite set of hours in the evening that I am at least re-reading and editing, if not writing new stuff. Every once in a while I’ll print out a hard copy and take my red pen to the whole thing. It’s amazing what typos or inconsistencies you can find in a hard copy that you don’t see in a digital one. Plus when it’s on paper, it just feels like a book… and it’s getting heavier every week, which is nice.

I did another complete rework of the point of view back to first person, which is just more comfortable for me to write in. It may not be the right way to do it, but it works for me. Also, since the story of Indigo is suspense – being in first person allows for that immediacy that I don’t think you get with a third person point of view. First person is more intimate; and I think, allows the reader to become even more involved in the story – rather than just being a spectator. Again, this is all subjective, and some people hate first person narratives, but then – they don’t have to read my book, do they?

I will say that I am so happy that the warm weather is at last upon us. I can finally sit in my favorite writing spot (my enclosed patio) and just type away, occasionally glancing up at the various critters around my yard. We get a lot of visits from the neighborhood squirrels, blue jays, and even deer if they’re brave enough. One of these days I’ll live somewhere warm enough to be able to do this year round. Until then, I’ll take advantage of the few months I have. I don’t think I’ll be as motivated just sitting in my office.

Well, that’s enough meandering for one night. Off to sleep; perchance to dream of Indigo and Maya’s next steps…

My Characters; My Friends.

I’ve finished the first 50 pages of Indigo for the WeBook contest and submitted it for judging. It will most likely be a week or so before I start seeing feedback from readers, and my anxiety is palpable. It’s always nerve-racking to send your creative babies out into the world, but this one is especially difficult for some reason. There is always fear of rejection – I think that’s natural for any author, but Indigo gets my blood pumping so differently than Ghosting did. He’s been in my head for so long, nagging at me to get out, and now that I’m doing that – it’s like telling a deeply personal secret to the world. It’s not as though I’m baring my soul, or standing naked in the middle of a mall, but close - I think that’s a pretty close analogy.

I'm ascerred.

When you spend countless hours thinking, writing, reading, re-reading, and editing the crap out of something, it’s hard not to personalize it. It’s even harder not to internalize the characters. They live in your head – and you’re the biographer telling their story. You want to get it right, and you want to do right by them. After all, they are trusting you to tell it correctly. That’s a big responsibility for an author to undertake.

My own imagination brought them to life, sure. But now that they’re here in my head, they’ve evolved into something somewhat real. They have their own personalities, senses of humor, vices, mannerisms, histories, endearing qualities, and character flaws (pun intended). No, I’ve not gone mad with invisible friends. I don’t talk to them - out loud anyway, but they are always present in some way. It’s hard to explain fully. It truly is one of the wonders of being a writer – the ability to create these completely intangible, yet concrete people and scenarios. And as a writer, you live with them almost all the time, whether you want to or not.

So all I can do now is wait for the feedback and criticisms from the contest reviewers with a mixture of excitement and dread. It’s a horrible combination, yet delicious in its own way. In the meantime I’ll just continue writing as though Indigo is the best thing since Shakespeare penned his first sonnet. Until the bubble gets burst by a critic, it’s a good feeling to have.