A surprise for the fans

Hey guys. I was talking to Les Dabel yesterday, or maybe it was an e-mail. Jon and I did a lot of comic related stuff yesterday. Anyway, talked to Les, and said, or wrote, "I wish I could share the splash page of Jean-Claude and Nikolaos with the fans." It was such an amazing image. So, guess what? Les checked with everyone and said, "Share." So we're sharing. Here is an image from issue three which won't be out until, I think, mid-December. Oh, and if you don't know what the term 'splash page' means, it refers to a page where only one panel takes up the entire page. Or that is my understanding of what it means. I'm learning all sorts of new terminology. Here it is, enjoy.



Jean-Claude is yelling, "Run!" to Anita who is out of frame.

The very last blog on rat genitalia

Okay, guys, this is it, the final word from me. I never wrote in a blog that I ever, ever, saw the scenes in the second issue where the ratmen had a full package. It never happened. I never saw it. Ever. Okay? What I referred to in the blog was early work with the artist, Brett Booth, where he sent me character sketches of the wereanimals and ghouls, and zombies, and all sorts of things. He wanted to see if his vision and mine matched; they did. At no time that I saw did the art for issue two have full frontal nudity with all the bits appearing. They came in smooth in the pencils. It is part me being new at looking at pencils that I didn't realize how smooth they would look in color. Now when pencils come across my desk they are a little darker, and it's easier to look at them. But I knew the rats weren't packin'. And no, you can't see the earlier sketches. Don't ask.

Now I hope that I can get back to enjoying the comic book. I have wonderful artwork and adaptation script to look over.

Very happy with the comic books

Okay guys, I'm not sure how some of you took my comment on the wererats genitilia, or lack there of, to mean I'm not happy with the comic. I am very happy with the comic. Short of me being able to draw the pictures in my head, this is my dream of my book being adapted to comic book form. This has been an amazingly positive experience. We have one bump in the road, the fact the comic book code just doesn't let you do male frontal nudity, and I talk honestly about it in the blog, and now some of you took that to say I'm not happy with the comic. That's not what I said. That's not what I wrote in the blog. That's certainly not what I meant anyone to take away from that blog. There are days when I think I should simply stop doing the blog. Because no matter what I say some people will interpret it differently from what I meant, or intended. I try to give you guys an honest view into my world and my work, as honest as I'm allowed. Honest as I think won't get some debate started that I didn't intend to start like this rumor. I love the comic books. I love watching the artwork come across our desks. I will from now on reread the script at the same time as I look at the art work so I'll see how it actually compliments each other. Reading them separately leaves some holes in the comprehension of what an issue will look and feel like. So, lesson learned. But let me just say I love the comics, and I've been very happy with everyone that is working on it. Saying I'd like to have my wererats with full equipment doesn't mean I don't love the comic. It means exactly what I said, that I'd like to either see full frontal nudity with full equipment on the rats, or give them the thong that is the comic book hats off to nudity, not the Ken doll smoothness. I tend to say what I mean, if I wasn't happy I'd say it. I am happy with the comic. So please do not think otherwise. I hope this stops the rumor that I'm not happy with it, but I fear me that like most rumors once it comes to life it's hard to kill.

Now I'm going to go read over the script for issue 3 and issue 4, and enjoy how smoothly the book translates to comic script. I'm going to look at the newest artwork and go, wow. Seeing good artwork, especially of my own characters, fills me with envy. I so wish I could draw. I'll tell you how happy I am, I've finally found a piece of art from my own work that I'm having framed to put up in my office. Of all the beautiful covers I've had on my books I've never framed and put one up. Not sure why, but the poster of Jean-Claude has finally won me over. I'm going to go back to having a wonderful time with the comic book. You guys try to play nice. No more rumors, okay.

The Dragon's dead, Long live the Dragon

THE HARLEQUIN was the first book I finished beginning to end in the new office. It was also the first book in years that I finished in a late night rush of inspiration. I ended up doing forty-nine pages from the day session which netted me seven, to the thirty-two that came from late afternoon to 3 A. M. The last time I sat up in the dark and did that many pages at once was LUNATIC CAFE. I did fifty pages in one rush. The session ended at 5 A. M. Trinity was only a few months old, so sleep was precious, but quiet time to write was in even shorter supply. At 3 in the morning I was getting a little jumpy, seeing things out of the corner of my eyes, but not bad. The night of the 5 in the morning, well, let's just say that I knew we had a mouse, but the herd of mice I was seeing from the corners of my eyes just couldn't be real. When I typed the last word of the book, I made myself get up and go towards one of the mice. They'd stopped disappearing when I looked directly at them, which was kind of unnerving. I got closer, the mouse didn't move. Unusual for a mouse. I made myself reach out and touch it, because I knew it wasn't real. It couldn't be. It wasn't real. It was a curl of electric cord. Once I touched it and realized that my mind was making shapes out of nothing, I went to bed. My husband, my first husband, woke me at seven to get up with the baby. I told him, "I went to bed at five." Wisely, he just got up and took care of Trinity. But he had to get me up by eight because he had to go to work, office job and all that. It would be the first day Trinity didn't take a nap. Of course. Anyone who has cared for a small baby knows how the lack of sleep can get to you, but I still remember those cavorting hallucinogenic mice. I never wanted to do that again, but oddly, it felt good to be up and exhausted enough from writing to begin to see that edge of delusion. It meant I really had given my all to the process. There was something about fighting the good fight in the new office, turning on louder and louder music to keep alert. Nine Inch Nails was what I blasted through the night. I didn't even need headphones to keep the rest of the family asleep, because the new offices are far enough away from the main house that no one could hear it. We're also far enough away from neighbors that they couldn't hear it either. Very nice. But something about the whole process helped the office be mine. It's been christened now. Or bloodied, or it's just become my space now. Again, very nice.

For this late night, early morning, session, Jon not only knew I was up doing it, but checked on me about every hour. I can thank him for introducing me to Nine Inch Nails. How it migrated to my office, I'm not sure. Hope he hasn't been looking for it. He is aware now that it's in my keeping. He walked up while it was blasting away. It is very nice to be married to someone that is intimate with my work, and my schedule. Someone who knows what I'm doing, and helps me with it. I did not ask him to check on me, it would never have occurred to me to ask. I'm a writer, and that is a solitary beast. You can ask people to look stuff over once you're finished, or bounce ideas off them, but in the end the writing is done alone. You fight the dragon by yourself. But it's nice to know I've got a base camp where people are waiting at the bottom of the hill with tea and sandwiches. It's even nicer to know that if I've been too long in the cave that someone will grab a torch and brave the hill, and see who's winning. The dragon is dead, the book is done. But I guess writing a book is like a CSI episode where the dragon slayer has to dissect the body, and clean up the cave, get it ready for it's next occupant. Hmm. Writing for me is part muse driven rush, almost sexual, then sheer battle with blood and sword, then forensics where you dissect the battle and decide how best to cut the body up, then finally land lord, time to clean up the cage and put out a sign saying, "Dragon wanted." I wrote last night in the blog that I think I've got the beginning of the next Anita book in hand, maybe. If so, I've got a glimpse of the next dragon. It looks deceptively mild mannered, but then don't they all at the start? But the next dragon will be Merry # 6. I can hear the belly scales scratching across the rocks in the distance. It's on it's way, and it's big one, but then, aren't they all.

Another step in the process

I've handed the baby off. Jon, Darla, and my editor, Susan, have the manuscript of THE HARLEQUIN. I have a list of things that I know need fixing. Darla and Jon will help tell me if what was in my head actually made it onto paper. Sometimes a scene is so vivid in the imagination that you read things into it as a writer that never made it into the paper version of the scene. You need fresh eyes that haven't been dreaming, planning, writing, reading and rereading a scene for months. After I've talked to Susan and tell her what changes I'm going to make, unless she can talk me out of them, then the real rewrite begins. But because I'm having to wait on other people to tell me, does it work, I've moved onto the next step in my writing process. I've started the first chapter of the next book. It's a fragile start, and probably won't be the finished way you see it, at all, but the opening feels right. Of the three openings, three book ideas I was looking at, it is the one I know least about. I don't know what the mystery plot will be with it, or if there is one. One of the ideas I guess I'm not doing yet has a hundred pages of rough draft already. It has a very strong mystery and some kick ass police scenes already written. So why not do that one next? Because it's not ready, or I'm not ready. Some of the things that made me stop on it the first time are still there, like things need to happen in other books before we finish that hundred page start. Several things that happen in HARLEQUIN made the hundred page opening closer to a reality, but not quite all. I mourn that hundred pages. I'd love to sit down months from now and have that much of the next Anita book done, but the other opening, the one that is barely begun is the next one. I'm almost a hundred percent certain. Almost. I'm to bed. I wish I could share the idea for the opening, but I know better. It may fizzle out. It may do a hundred pages then go, nope, not yet. So no serious details until I'm sure. By the end of the rewrite of HARLEQUIN, I'll know. Of course, I probably can't tell you the opening of the next book until the HARLEQUIN is out because of spoiler problems. Oh, hell. I don't know. I'm tired. I'm going to bed. I don't have to write it tonight.

Dinner and a game

Just got back from dinner. Went to our favorite sea food restaurant here in town. Jon, Richard, and I took our friend Andrew out to celebrate that he got his certification as a personal trainer. Yea, for Andrew! Two of the guys are playing on the x-box, some shooting game with helicopter noises. Okay, Jon and Richard are playing. Andrew is reading. I'm about to call the evening. Apparently, Jon and Richard finally turned their weapons on each other. Jon also discovered you can, indeed, shoot down your own escape helicopter. Why you would want to do that, well, that's a different question. It must be a guy thing. Though, admittedly, I don't get computer games. I don't get the appeal, I guess. Something to do with being a gaming widow in my first marriage.

Happy Thanksgiving

We're having the Thanksgiving meal with Jon's family on the weekend. Trin is with her father at his new wife's family for today. So, Jon and I turned necessity into virtue and had a blissfully quiet day. Just us, the puppies, and no one else. It's been very nice. Seeing the whole family later in the week and doing the big meal will be nice too, but spending a thanksgiving day at home with just the two of us was a nice way to spend the holiday. Hope you got to do exactly what you wanted to do on your day off.

Read through done

I've finished the read through of THE HARLEQUIN. I'm happy with it, except for a few things at the end. I tend to rush the climax of a book at the end sometimes, not always, but sometimes. I know this about myself as a writer, but I also know that once the first draft is done that a rushed ending can be fixed later. I rushed a few fight scenes, which I'll need to flesh out and take my time with. I have a few questions on the metaphysics. I need to go back an reread some of the other books to find out what's actually in print on certain topics. It's always a throw away line that you forgot you wrote that will come back to haunt you. You don't remember you wrote it one way, and it's in print, so you write it now, and suddenly you have two mutually exclusive truths in print in one series. You try not to do things like that but when you're writing book fifteen of a series, it's a concern.

I hope you and yours have a great Thanksgiving. I may actually take tomorrow completely off, so there maybe no blog tomorrow, not sure. I've done the read through, made my notes. The book looks like it's bleeding sticky notes. Most of the notes are small things, like spelling of people's names, does that minor character have blue, or grey eyes, that sort of thing. I gave a bad guy the same unusual name as a victim in an earlier book. I must like that name. Most of the notes that might actually need a rewrite are all at the end. Like I said, rushed the ending. I've made notes on things that absolutely must be fixed, and made more notes on things that could be redone. I'm not quite certain on a part of the fight and how it goes, but I think I'll let the book sit until Monday. Let my subconscious work at it. If I feel particularly inspired I may sit down and start the first chapter of the next book, but I think that will probably wait until I'm positive THE HARLEQUIN is put to bed. I'll see if the muse moves me early. For those who are new to the blog, at the end of most books, I open a new file on the computer and write the first chapter of the next book in the series. The voice, the world, everything is strongest and clearest at the end of a book. I write either all, or part of the beginning of the next book so that months from now when I sit back down to Anita I'll have a chapter, or at least some pages and an outline of the beginning. It makes the writing go so much easier. Strangely, I didn't write an opening for Merry 6, when I finished MISTRAL'S KISS. I have no idea exactly where to start the story. Normally, that scares me, but for some reason with this book, it excites me, as if the book wasn't ready months ago to tell me where it began. Books are like people, they have their own personalities, their own rhythm's. Not just each series is different, but each book is different, unique. For everything that is the same from book to book in the process of writing, there are a dozen, or a hundred things that are different. Experiences you only have with this book, this person, this moment. Anyway, I'm off. Happy Turkey Day.

The comic looks great, but . . .

I was going to talk about my day off and how wonderful seeing SPAMALOT was, thanks to Mitchell for making it so special for all of us. Instead, though, I'm going to have to address a problem. Sigh.

The second GUILTY PLEASURES comic book hit the stands, and there's something missing on the nude ratman. Genitalia. They are smooth as Barbie dolls, which is definitely not how I describe them in the books. When I first saw art from Daebel brothers, the ratmen had the full equipment. The pictures that crossed our desks here for this issue showed smooth. Admittedly, I have some trouble visualizing the pencil sketches, but I knew the ratmen weren't packing. I didn't flag it, because my understanding is that we were up against a deadline. The choice was to fight for full frontal nudity or get the issue out. Also, if we do full frontal then we are a mature comic, which means odd things about distribution and who will shelve it. I didn't know that for a fact, but suspected it. If we'd had the time in the schedule I would have suggested the movie and television fix of a well placed knee or shadow. But I made the decision that it was better to get the issue out on time and stay on schedule then to fight it. Yes, I have carte blanche I could have thrown a fit, and said no, full frontal, or nothing. They'd have done it, eventually. But you wouldn't have the comic yet. A lot of shops won't carry something with that level of explicitness. Check out the comic codes, guys. Think of the comic books as a movie. If this was a movie would you expect to see full frontal male nudity? If you did get it, then the rating for the movie would be a NC-17 or even X, if they still do X as a real rating. The real problem with this comic having the smooth parts, was that Anita commits on how small the genetalia is of the ratman, and she kicks him in the balls, which he doesn't have. It was a very unfortunate time to not have time to address this problem. Honestly, though I'd seen the words separately, and the art. I had not seen them together, and I'm having some trouble putting them together in my head. So it wasn't until I opened the comic and saw just how unfortunately awkward the lack of balls to bust was, that I realized, crap. But, would we rather have delayed the comic? Would we rather have delayed not only this comic, but all the rest of them, while we tried for a solution? I decided to make the deadline. I'm an artist, but I'm also a professional, and that means you make your deadlines if at all possible.

We have new artwork today, and we are discussing with the artist, with Marvel, and the Dabels what we can do about this particular problem. We are discussing various solutions, and we will be discussing them in more detail. My goal is that we will have something other than the whole smooth Barbie Doll thing, which I hate as much, or more than any fan. Come on guys, this is my baby, you know I wanted it the way I wrote it, but I'm also realistic enough to know that we aren't getting full frontal in the main edition of a mainstream comic book. It ain't happening. But we will come up with a solution other than neutering our male wereanimals. No more of that, okay. I just didn't realize how much it would bother us all until I saw the finished product. Other than that this problem though I'm very pleased with the comic. I think it looks gorgeous, we're just missing some bits. We'll work on it not happening again, but it will be work to get it fixed. And while I'm trying to get this fixed, I'm also editing THE HARLEQUIN. Sigh, again.

Something

I did a blog, because of miscommunication you don't get it today, maybe tomorrow. I've been editing THE HARLEQUIN. I've got about two hundred pages read and sticky noted. The manuscript is about 690 pages, but that has nothing to do with how many pages the actual book will be. Depending on type face used it can be bigger than that in print, or half that size. So when I tell you guys how big a book is in manuscript, it tells you only how much info, or story is in the book, not printed page count. The book reads well, I'm happy with it so far, which is pretty good since I haven't quite recovered from writing it. I got past one of the scenes today that I did so many versions of that I honestly didn't remember which version I kept. It was interesting to read the final cut, so to speak. That's it for me today. Good night, folks.

Done, but edits still to do

Good morning, everyone. I walked into my office and the windows are shuttered, even the skylights. I thought I wanted lots of light, but I find the closed feeling sort of comfy. Maybe a little cave time is what I need now. I wanted to explain, briefly, that when I typed done last night, that it's not done in the way you might think. Done means first draft. Done means still need to go gun shopping; talk to some experts in various fields; go back over the draft and see how many things were in my head but didn't quite get on paper. I also know, now, that there are about two pieces of plot business that have to be cut, because the book didn't go in that direction. It went in a totally different direction that worked better, but the earlier bits are like false advertising. It doesn't happen, so out it goes. Done, means I'm taking today off expect for this blog. Done means tomorrow I begin to print out a complete hard copy and begin edits. (Part of that early deadline so that the book hits the shelves in June instead of October of '07 is a real pain in the butt for me. I can't have a week to let the book rest. I have to start editing it tomorrow, there's no room in the schedule for waiting. Ick.) But it's done. The last thing I will do is find the perfect, or nearly perfect end line or paragraph. I put an end on it last night, knowing that it would change, or rather be added onto. The last taste in the book should feel complete, but leave you wanting to read the next one. Complete but eager. I almost always change the last paragraph of a book more than any other paragraph. Every writer has their piece of book that they agonize a little on. For some it's the first line, but I find those easier than the last line. But it is done in some form it is done. My rough drafts are not nearly as rough as some I've seen, but for me it's rough. And more than that, I know it's rough. I already have a list in my head which I need to put on paper of things I know need cut, or changed. Anyway, I'm off to take a long bath, if I can manage the time. It's my day off so it's packed full of stuff. Isn't that always the way. But it's fun stuff, and I feel oddly energized rather than depleted. I have wanted this book finished for so long. It has loomed over me for months, and now, I can say, it's done. Yee-freaking-ha.

Done

Done. The Harlequin, Anita book 15 is done. Thirty-two pages in one session, with a break for dinner, and I'm done. It's 3:11 A. M. Damn. There is a reason I'm tired. I'm going to bed now. See ya.

A little too much mystery in my computer

Got eight pages today. The most I've gotten in about a week. I am happy with the eight pages, but I was hoping to bridge to the next scene since I seem to have such trouble bridging scenes in the last part of this book. But as has happened several times with THE HARLEQUIN my computer had other ideas. Jon has no idea why it's done it's latest flaky thing, but it's reformatted the entire file, all the book. It did this once before. I swear if he gets it back to the way it was, I'm making a copy and sending it to New York to my publisher for safe keeping. Part of the concern is the great disc crash when DRIVE SAVERS had to save our cookies. But also, as I've mentioned several times in the blog, the computer has been acting flaky off and on during the entire writing of this book. I think my main computer is just nearing the end of it's bug free life. I'd said weeks, or months, ago that when I finish this book the computer will retire and I'll have to get a new one, but the problem today has just highlighted it. The computer actually did this exact reformat crap once before during this book. Jon managed to monkey it back into shape, but neither of us can remember how he did it. Frankly, most tech people will admit that sometimes they don't know why something breaks, or why it starts working again. Sometimes computers just do stuff. Any tech person who denies that is either new to the job, or like some doctors, doesn't want to admit that they don't understand everything about their job. Computers are mysterious things, or can be. I'd just like them to be a little less mysterious until I finish the final fight scene.

The wall was thiiiis big, honest.

I have a few pages today. Hard won pages. But it's progress. I've got the scene beyond, but I'm still having fits bridging the two scenes. Sometimes that means you don't need the bridge, and the scenes work just fine cheek to cheek, but not this time. I need the bridge, or a small scene in between. Richard has been trying to cooperate this book, but I can't really blame him for wanting to bail. He's been a good sport, but there is a limit, and he's allowed that limit. But it may endanger us all. Sigh. I actually did something I seldom do, and printed out the last chapter and let someone else read it. Jon got picked for the duty. He told me what I'd begun to suspect that there was nothing wrong with the chapter and everything wrong with the inside of my head. If you are not a writer I don't know how to explain how ugly the inside of the head can get during a book. The fact that it happens on every book without exception for most writers doesn't make it less unpleasant, but you would think I'd have figured it out sooner. I think the reason it took so long was that even for me this has a been a wildly productive year, and I'm tired. That part of you that the writing comes from, needs a break, a little time to refill the well. I'll get it, when this book is done, but this book has loomed like a huge wall before me. The best analogy I can come with is that I've been staring at what felt like the Great Wall of China, no way around, or over, just an impassable barrier. Today, Jon helped me look at it honestly, not just through the anxiety and tiredness in my head. It's a wall, yes, but it's more like those little walls they have around decoritive gardens. You know the kinds that are mostly for keeping out the rabbits? Well, I'm on the other side of the wall now. The garden seems like a wilderness, but there's a path. I know where I'm going, I just have to figure which characters are going with me, and who wants to sit this one out.

I've divided the day between the new Evanescence album and "The Secret Garden", the Broadway album. Maybe that's where all the garden metaphors are coming from. Probably. I haven't had to pull the Christmas music out, yet, but I have written long hand most of the day. For those of you new to the blog, when the writing is going badly, I change from modern music to musicals, and if the writing continues to go slow I break out the Christmas music. It's always bad when I'm listening the Christmas music in July. Only moments ago did I type in some of the notes, and make actual pages. Long day. I guess long night now. It's a blustery night here. We were supposed to get snow, but luckily it warmed up, because we've had a lot of rain. I can't imagine how many inches of snow it would have turned into.

Pages, but no progress

Did the dragon win today, or did I whip it's ass? Neither. It took me all day to do an essay for an interview. I got it done, but I didn't get to touch the book that's actually due. So did I slay the dragon, or did I not take the field at all today? I don't know. I have a hard time seeing anything but actual pages on the current book as real work. But the interview and the essays are writing, are work, but . . . I don't know, though I've worked all day I come to the end of this day and feel as if I've done no work. I have pages to my name, but not on THE HARLEQUIN. I've asked for some help from New York on some of the shorter pieces, just give me some ideas and how to do it. Short is one of the hardest things for me to write. I just don't think short. I find it especially difficult to write short about a book I've already written. I mean if I could condense it down to a poem, it wouldn't have needed to be a book, right? I'm outta here for tonight. Even though the pages didn't get me a bit closer to the end of the current book, the pages did take energy out of me. I'm tired now. I'm done for the day, and yet, the book is no closer to completion. Weird. So I'm off to put a chicken in the oven. I'm actually cooking the main dish tonight, instead of Jon. He's not particularly fond of roast chicken, but he's letting me cook it, and he'll eat it, but it seems to be rubbing salt in the wound to make him cook it. Now I'm off to rub salt into the skin of the chicken. I know, I know, some people say no salt, but I think it makes the skin crispier. Roast is the only chicken we do skin on, and I want the skin crispy. If I'm going to be unhealthy, I want it to be good.

Despair and the Dragon

I'm not sure the dragon won today, but I certainly feel like I've gotten chewed around the edges. I have a page for the whole day. It seems like every time I gain any speed on this ending I get interrupted with some bit of publicity for a different book, or with some mundane topic that can't wait. I've been nearly done with this book for so long. I've never been this close to the end and not been able to cross the finish line for this many days. What is wrong? Well, I'm not sure I've ever had this many different projects in so many different stages of completion before. Each stage demands attention like trying to give birth to a newborn while you're teaching a toddler how to walk, an elementary age their A, B, Cs, a teenager how to drive, and a college student how to be independent. All the above while still in hard labor with a baby that just doesn't seem to want to see the outside world. I am just not very good at multi-tasking. Yet, my career has reached a point where it is a skill that I must acquire, and become proficient at, and like now, not later. Frankly, I don't know how to do it. Nobody is good at everything. I am one of those people that is best when I can concentrate completely on one task at a time until it's complete. It has been years since I had the luxury of actually seeing one project through before the next one needed attention. I keep thinking I'll get better at it, but instead I seem to be getting worse.

The dragon didn't win today, I didn't get to fight him long enough for him to win, or me to loose. I think the dragon is on the hill bored, because I start up the hill, but keep getting a message from the castle before I can get up to the cave on top. If there is a prince to save up there, he's toast, because I'm never going to get there. Or that's how it feels today. Maybe tomorrow will be a better and more productive day. Hope so, because I am getting majorly discouraged. The slow pace has made me begin to doubt the climax of the book and start changing things. Changing stuff before the first draft is complete is death. You will be consumed by your own doubts, and second guessing. Full speed ahead, or I loose my way. One of the reasons I write so quickly is that slow does not work for me as a writer. Slow gives me too much time to change my mind. I end up rewriting things that don't need it, taking out scenes I do need, or putting in things I don't. This is the freaking end of the book, I know what needs to be done. I know what happens, damnit. So why I can't I get there, because about the time the book is rolling there's a phone call, or some God awful important thing that needs my attention. The real problem is that it does need my attention. I've fought for control of as much of my career as possible, well, the price for that, is you have to control it. So bitch and whine though I may, I wouldn't be happy if I was out of the loop. I certainly wouldn't be happy if I didn't have the control. No, that would make me severely unhappy. But . . . I am puzzled by how to balance it all. I feel like one of those Circus acts where you balance the plates on the long poles and run from plate to plate keeping them spinning. Right now, it feels like the line of poles is so very long that there is no way to keep them all spinning, no way to not have some of the plates come crashing down. I can only run so fast. Today, it was not fast enough. Today, I have a page, and almost no progress on a book that is due in less than three weeks. I worked very hard to have the deadline for this book moved up. To give you guys the book in June instead of October of '07. But I thought I was days away from the finish. Now I'm stalled, and I can't seem to get up the hill. I've gone from having months to finish this book, to weeks, and I am paying the price for the change. I am tired, and I have lost faith. Lost faith in the book, in myself, in the plot. Every writer does this, but usually my low point is somewhere close to the beginning. The beginning didn't give me any trouble because I had written the first chapter months ago. I should have remembered that the book has this moment, all books have it, that moment when you don't believe you can pull it off. After twenty plus books and there still, always, that moment. A moment when you think you have failed before you've even really tried. I should have understood that if I didn't have this moment early, I would have it late. Strangely, I feel better having written that. I had forgotten what was happening. I had forgotten that this is the moment of despair that every book has for the writer. This book fooled me. I was so close to the finish line, so close, that I thought, well, finally I've gotten to that point as a writer where despair does not come to you, and wail like a banshee on your shoulder. I was too confident, and that's how it suckered me. I thought I was safe, but every book has it's moment of despair. I can think, oh, that's what this is, I've done this before. I've done this twenty-two times before. I've been in this dark place many times. It is an illusion. There's nothing wrong with the book. It hasn't failed. What has failed is the writer's nerve. That part of us that gives us the courage to sit in a room alone and make stuff up out of whole cloth, and be brave enough to share it with other people. Brave enough to put a little piece of yourself out there for others to enjoy, or hate. It takes courage to fight the dragon, and sometimes the dragon has a wizard helping him. The wizard sends ghosts and banshees to cry in our ears, that no one will want to read this, that this story does not work, does not hold together. The despair says, this time the magic did not work. This time if you climb the hill to the dragon's cave you will be destroyed, because the book in your hands is not real, and will not shield you this time. But it is not true. There is nothing wrong with your book, or you. The despair is a trick to see if you can push past it, and conquer what you fear. This will be my twenty-third trip up the hill. I know I can do it, because I've done it before. Tomorrow I will get up. My husband and I will get our kid off to school. We will walk the dogs. Then I will come up here to my office. I will put on my armor, I will say a prayer, and I will run up that damn hill.

Frost

I got up this morning, glanced out the bathroom window, and thought, holy shit, it snowed last night. I know the temperature was dropping but how cold did it get? Then I calmed down and realized it was just a really heavy frost. But it did blanket the roofs like a young snow, glittering in the early light. I left Jon to snooze. He'd requested a little more sleep. I'm fine with that. Sometimes it's nice to be the first one up in a quiet house. Okay, the dogs are howling to be let out, and so it's not so quiet, but I'm the only biped up. I throw on one of Jon's wintry coats, and out the dogs and I go into dawn light, and a frost that is every where. The leaves on the ground are edged with it, outlined and decorated it with the white crystal lines of it. The leaves on the plants hang heavier with the weight of the cold and the ice. It's not just a frost, it's a killing frost. I'm suddenly thinking of Merry and her world. I'm thinking of our Killing Frost. I'm thinking of him as I stand there with Pip tugging on his leash. I breathe in the cold air with that winter bite to it, and I'm thinking of Frost. He comes to me as if his name sake conjured him. I can almost feel his arms, how tall he is, how solid, how strangely real. I stand there with a herd of pugs around my feet, and the big puppy like a black giant amount them, and I'm faraway in my head. Yet, again strangely, I am very present. I am noticing the way the frost touches everything. I breath it in and try to remember the taste of the air, the feel of the heavy frost on the leaves. How it melts if you touch it with your finger tips. It turns to ice, to water, at the warmth of my fingers. If you're careful you can brush it, delicate and unreal, touch the ice, touch the first breath of Winter's cold, but if you linger too long, touch too hard, the frost melts, is destroyed. My touch, my warmth, destroys it, like some delicate work of art that you've rubbed too hard. I stand there and think, this is Frost's namesake, this is what he is, what he became. This first death, this first harbinger of the winter kill. The sun rises and where it touches the frost melts, fades, dies. In the shadowed places the frost lingers. Like Frost, himself, who found refuge of a sort in the dark and shadow of the Unseelie court. I stand there in the morning light, and think of him. I'm not completely done with the current Anita book. THE HARLEQUIN is almost finished, but not quite. It's unusual, nay unheard of, for me to get distracted this close to the end by another book, another world. But I'm thinking about Frost today, as stand surrounded by his namesake. I think winter will be a good time to write the next Merry book, or maybe it will just make Frost's part easier to write. Some writers would be going, no, don't think about another book before you've finished this one. I think it's a good sign. MISTRAL'S KISS the fifth Merry book will be out in December, but the sixth book, is moving liquid in my head. I think by the time I take my two weeks off, I will be ready to sit down and write. Frost is in my head trying to tell his story, or his part of the next story. I actually know less about what will happen in book six than I ever have with a Merry book. Once, that would have bothered me, but not now,now it feels like freedom, as if I'd over plotted, over planned. Sometimes it's nice to fling yourself into space and let the words catch you. I've spent a few books clinging to the ground, but it feels like it's time to go to the top of the big top. Time to grab the trapeze again, and soar. Time to let go and see who catches me. Today, it feels like I know whose hands would be there waiting to pull me into his arms. Frost is talking in my head, not in words, but in touches, the way his hair feels against my face, all tactile and touch. I get writers asking me how do you make your characters so real? I try to answer. I talk about needing to know the hair color, eye color, height, skin tone, all the building blocks, but in the end it's the way their smile lights their face. In the end it's that I know how it feels to have Frost's arms wrapped around me from behind. I know the feel of his body. I know the texture of his hair, and how it looks in different kinds of light as it spills around his face. I can feel him. I realize that that is often the way for me. I felt Jean-Claude's shirt slide across my skin. It is not about something cold and distant. I know my characters the way you know your best friends, and in some cases your spouses. I choose the word spouse carefully here, because I've talked to too many people that see lovers as causal. I am not causal with my characters. I know them as you begin to know a spouse. That day in, day out, familiarity, that you need to truly KNOW someone. The feeling fades as the frost fades. The leaves and grass are just wet now. I cannot feel him as I did, but I know now the sensation will come back. I've had such vivid sensory memory with Anita and her crew, but never with Merry. I've had to fight to know Merry and her people. Then suddenly, as suddenly as the frost itself, I can feel him. I know the others will come now. The door is open.

With an introduction by Laurell K Hamilton

Hey,
This is an informational post. I'm doing it because Laurell's hands and lap are full of our 60lbs lap dog.

Laurell wrote an introduction to the second volume of Schlock Mercenary, Schlock Mercenary: The Blackness Between (hereafter SM:TBB). You can still pre-order the book, and it will ship out on by the end of next week.

Laurell did the introduction because Schlock Mercenary is one of the comics we read every morning. It is one of the things that is getting her out onto the internet and actually doing email and things.

Check out Schlock and then get the book.

NOLA T-shirts

No, we're not making special T-Shirts for the New Orleans Trip.

I promised a lot of people that I'd post where Laurell and I got the shirts we wore at the signing in New Orleans.

We got them from OffWorld Designs, at Archon. You can find their shirts at several other online sites, and at a lot of the Science Fiction Conventions.

Laurell wore the "Evil Keeps me Young" shirt from the Gothic section.

I wore the "Reanimate" shirt from the Gaming section.

We also got Trin the "Girl Genius" shirt from the Girl Genius section.

Pages and a little gun play

Eleven pages today. Yea! I got most of it done before Charles arrived with his toys. It was fun to play with everything. It's made Jon and I really look forward to the gun shopping trip. The 1911 was just fun. Nice and meaty. Not useful for out fitting anyone in the fight scene, but some weapons aren't about practicality, some are just about the way they feel in your hands.

This one goes to the dragon,almost.

Earlier today I hung up a sign that said, "Today the Dragon Won." I didn't have a page to my name. Yeah, voting took some time, and we had a business meeting, but when I sat down at my desk there was nothing. I'd had a good eight pages yesterday, and today, I just wandered around the scene making no progress. I did not know what to do. I'd built the villains of this book to such a point from almost their first mention that they are these uber warriors. That these are the vampires that the vampires themselves fear. Now here I was at the final battle, and I didn't know how to live up to the promise. I mean it's Anita, Edward, Olaf, Remus, Claudia, I mean we have all the really good fighters in my world. We have Edward for God's sake. What can be more uber than Edward? So instead of beating my head against the wall I first visited Jon in his office. We managed to spill a large cup of hot tea all over his desk. After we cleaned up the mess, I wandered back to my office. I'd been planning on calling Charles. We had several things we needed to discuss with him about comicon, some research trips, lots of stuff. Also when you're stuck in the middle of a fight scene you can do worse than call up a friend who is ex-military and cop. We talked about this and that. He's bringing over some potentially lethal toys tomorrow to see if I get inspired. You never know. He's got stuff I don't. I'm trying to outfit more than just Anita here. We are so over due for a gun buying trip. Got off the phone from Charles, wandered over to Darla's office. She gave me the advice, "Just stop for today. Let your subconscious work on it." That's when I hung the dragon won sign up, and took a bath. A nice, hot, soaking bath is never a bad thing. I'm listening to a book on tape in the tub right now, Rex Stouts, A FAMILY AFFAIR. It's a Nero Wolfe mystery. Some combination of hot water, being clean, finally letting myself relax, and hearing someone else's words clicked. I had one of those ideas that you go, why didn't I think of it before? It will loose me some pages to rewrite the scene, but I think, I think, I may have the direction we need to go. I think. I won't truly know until I try writing it tomorrow. It will either work, or it won't. I hope it works. I think it will. I can't tell you the idea because it would be like a major spoiler, but I thought I'd share that sometimes when you've spent all day beating your head against a scene, sometimes walking away for a few hours isn't a bad idea. I know, I usually say never give up, but sometimes walking away isn't giving up. Sometimes you just need a little distance between you and the scene so you can see all your options. You get blinded by the plot you've planned and when it refuses to flow, you get stuck. Walk away, let your mind cool down, and sometimes the muse goes, wait a minute. What about this idea, remember this idea from earlier in the book? Why, yes, I do remember that. That's a good idea. We'll see just how good it is tomorrow morning. Wish me luck.

Vote

Vote tomorrow. Just vote. I won't even try to influence your vote one way or the other, but please, God, vote. Remember that elections are what countries do instead of revolutions. It's a bloodless way to change your goverment. Don't let the political climate get you down. Your vote counts, damnit. I swear to you that if enough of us get out there and vote we will change things. There are some races out there so close that a handful of votes could make the difference. If you're unhappy with things, vote. If you're happy with things, vote. If you don't give a damn, vote. Vote, damn you, vote. Don't waste the opprotunity that other countries are dieing to have a chance at. Vote.

Your vote is your liscence to bitch about things.

The muse and I

I did five pages yesterday, and it was all done after dark with one small lamp on. Done after I'd gone up to my office for just a few minutes for something else. The book moves in my head, calls to me, coaxes and bullies me. I don't mind. If I can manage not to be interrupted in some major way maybe this mood will see me through to the end of the book. I hope so. I don't know about everyone else's muse, but mine is pushy. She's no shrinking violet. She's an up in your face, grab you by the shirt and drag your ass to work kind of girl. Just the way I like 'em.

The New Orleans Effect

Am I the only one that's still feeling the effects of New Orleans? What effect? Well, inappropriate thoughts that want to come out your mouth as actual words, and do. I'm not usually that good at quippy double entendres, except on paper, but there must be something in the air in New Orleans that gives you this questionable ability. (It has to be the air and not the water, because none of us used tap water while we were there. We met a local that had been hospitalized from giardia recently. Not at a major hotel, but we decided not to chance it.) So something in the air makes you a little more verbally quick on your feet, and most of the quickness is all the stuff you normally don't say out loud. But something about New Orleans takes that little conductor in your head that goes, yes or no, on what you're about to say, and ties him up and puts him in the closet. Or at least Jon, Charles, and I noticed this effect. I even noticed it with Florence. But I thought once we got home it would fade. It really hasn't. Is this some permanent change in my defenses. You know, those walls and gates that keep all the things you're thinking from slipping out. I don't know whether to be afraid, or relieved, if it stays. I started by blaming Charles, because he is very quick on his verbal feet, and only our friend Richard could keep up with the double entendres. Jon and I get better at quips in pure self-defense. But here we are a few days away from New Orleans, and only e-mails from Charles, and still those thoughts slide through my head. They dance around my lips, and come perilously close to spilling out. Is it anything that's not true? No. Is it anything that I need to share with that many people, um, no. I have been reduced to utter silence by the presence of my own child, because thought after thought is inappropriate in front of her. The inside of my head is still echoing with an energy from the Big Easy. Heck, I didn't even drink while we were there. So what is it? What is it about New Orleans that just makes you come back, and be a little looser in your own skin?

Fire fight tomorrow, maybe

End of the day. Tired. Only eight pages today. It felt like it should have been more. But when I did the page count that was all. Good pages, I think. We're almost through the metaphysics to the fire fight beyond. I actually came up with a way to have the climax just about some really viscous magic, but we have Edward. You have to have something for Edward to do, and he doesn't really do magic. He's psychically sensitive as most of the really good monster hunters are, but that's not the same thing as being able to fight with pyschic ability. So we gotta have a fire fight. Weapons must be drawn. Complicates my life, but gives everyone something to do. A little more metaphysics then fire fight tomorrow. Okay, maybe another day of metaphysics, then fire fight. Came up with some really cool ideas today. We'll see how many actually get on stage, and how many go in the out-takes, or to do later files.

A good, productive day

By 3:30 this afternoon I had done thirty minutes on the treadmill (some of it actually running, not just walking with attitude), finished twelve pages of THE HARLEQUIN (the climatic fight scene is well under way, yea!), and was in the shower. The shower I'd promised myself this morning if I got the writing and the exercise done. Jon likes his showers in the morning before the day begins, I'm a clean up at the end of the day person. I'll make an exception depending on the schedule, but end of the day also ups your chance of a long soaky bath. One of my favorite things. No time for that today though, and no patience. The kiddo to be taken care of, dinner to be done, and we are picking up our friend, Richard (no, not that Richard), at the airport. He's back from Italy for awhile. Anyway, the dogs are letting us know that they also need to eat. Lots to do before we pick Richard up. Anyway, a good, productive day. I listened to the new Evanescence album on the treadmill and continued with headphones and music to the afternoon session of writing. Strangely, I never seem to be able to listen to Evanescence at the beginning of an Anita book, but there's something about the end of one that the music just fits. Good they brought out the second album, at long last.

Another day, another blog

My goal is to do a new blog every day. I won't make that, most likely, but heck, you guys got two blogs last night. We'll see how it goes. I wrote mostly long hand today. I have been having fits with this plot climax. Finally, today I meditated and took this particular problem into meditation with me. I couldn't clear my head enough to meditate, so I finally said, okay, then look at what's bothering you. Why couldn't I get this scene done? I think I know. I have pages in my notebook to transcribe to computer tomorrow. I hope that that will get me over the hump. I think I know what's happening in the finale. I think I know, but I also know that something will surprise me. Some character, or plot point, or event will come out of left field and take my breath away, or reduce me to tears. Sometimes it's tears of frustration, sometimes it's tears of a different kind. There are so many characters on stage for the final show down that that alone will be a challenge to me as a writer. Jon and I saw more covers this week for the comic book. Soooo cool. The new Anita cover, and the Edward cover, are entirely too cool. The other cover I'll let you wait to see, and see how many of you spot who it is right away. Those who are new to the books entirely, and have just been introduced to the comic book, well, if you guys are reading this blog, welcome. Sorry, if much of what I write assumes a certain intimacy with my world and my characters. To write the blog any other way would be like trying to explain who all my friends and family are every time I mention them. Sorry if it's confusing. I hope not too confusing. Again, welcome aboard, hope you enjoy the ride.