Competitive, but only with myself

It's always hard to get back on track when I've been traveling. I'm trying to get better at it, but it's a not a strong suit. Not yet.

I spent the morning without much success at Merry and her men. Then broke to work on the comics, because it piles up quick when we've been away. To give you some idea of what it's like, and how many people are involved in the comic, here's a taste.

We went over more script from Jess. We're into issue 11 in script.

We looked over revisions of 9 from our artist Ron, from our editorial staff Mark and Jordan.

We looked at covers for 9, or revisions thereof. See names just above for who we got that from, and sent it back to.

We got roughs on issue 10; again see Ron our artist, and Mark and Jordan, our editorial staff.

We also went over some stuff for publicity from various people. Ruwan, Arune, and Jim. Different things from each of them. A very busy day for publicity.

I'll ask them tomorrow if I can get specific on some of the nifty stuff we saw today. So cool. But it's Marvel's ball as well as mine on the pub, so I have to check tomorrow and see if it's okay. I think it will be, but erring on the side of caution is never bad.

I think that was it for the comic. I went over it all with Jon. He typed up our notes and sent them off, so I could get back to work on Merry. Which I did. Funny, how a break where you work on something completely different can refresh you. I still didn't make as much progress as I wanted to make, but then I'm a pretty harsh task master, so it takes a lot to impress me. I would say, even from me, but the truth is, especially from me. The only person I feel competitive towards, is me. How far can I push myself? How much more can I accomplish? At the end of the day, and the beginning of the next, those are the question I ask myself. Every damn day.

We're home

We're back home. Yea! I did better on the flights than I've done in the past. There was a moment on the homeward bound one that I started to panic, but I remembered to slow my breathing, calm my pulse, and just not let the physical reaction lead to the mental and emotional reaction. It worked. Where the body goes, so goes the mind; at least for me in this.

Jon, Trinity, and I, have already watched one episode of NAURTO that we TiVoed. For those who watch the show, can you believe what a crazy bugger Saske has become? Where is the kid we watched at the beginning of this show? Jon says that all the hints and clues are there. We've even gone back and watched some of it, and he's right. Sort of. It's there, but did it have to go this bad? Poor Naurto. I am all out of sympathy for Saske.

For those who don't watch the show, sorry if this makes no sense at all, but if I tried to explain it would be pages, and it still might not make sense to you.

We've got so much television TiVoed that we can't watch it all tonight. It being a school night and all. We have a new episode of DIRTY JOBS, new PYSCH, a TOPGEAR that we haven't seen, though I'm not sure it's truly new, a new episode of CHUCK, and a second new NARUTO. That's all Trinity-safe, but we also have the new season opener of TORCH WOOD, that is not always Trin-safe. So we'll save that for later. We also TiVoed a show from the History Channel on the Great Wall of China. It's two hours, so it will wait for a none school night.

What? You thought all I watched was vampire stuff and scary movies? Too much a busman's holiday.

Think calm thoughts

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!

Airplane ride.

Need I say more?

But, of course, it's me, so I am; I will. I have the Bose headphones that cancel out noise, but, they won't let you use them on take off and landing anymore. Which is exactly when most people need them most. Frankly, on a long flight there comes a moment of panic, if I've managed to avoid it before hand. A moment of gut wrenching, skin crawling, breath stopping, pulse thudding; panic. Once that level of panic is reached, you are cooked. The fear has you. Music becomes very important to me to keep me from running up and down the aisles screaming. (They really frown on that since 9/11. Though frankly, they weren't too fond of it before. Okay, I never did that, but I did wander back and forth in the aisles once crying hysterically.)

I have two new books to read. I have the fifty-some pages of Merry in a file to work on. I have about twenty pages of the next Anita book, just in case the muse decides that works better. Deadlines do not dictate when fear is this high. Whatever will get my mind occupied is what works. I even have the beginnings of a short story that is neither Merry, nor Anita. It's a good opening, strong voice. I haven't had a short story idea this clear in my head in years. Cool.

Being Wiccan, I have a selection of stones with me that, hopefully, will help keep me calm. I'll have Jon beside me to clutch. I've only bled his hand and arm once. He voted for me clutching his thigh through his pants after that. Even I can't bleed him through jeans, though I did once indent him pretty badly back when we were still wearing the designer suits. Suit pants just aren't made of as stern a stuff as jeans. I have done everything I can to insure a comfy flight. There is no more to do.

Oh, one more thing. I can't let the panic get as bad as I described earlier. What I have learned is that if I can keep that first flush of panic from happening, the rest is manageable. If I can simply not panic, it's okay. It means actually controlling my heart rate, and breathing, because it starts with the physical symptoms. It's sort of like meditation, sort of, when I feel my body beginning to race, I calm my breathing, and concentrate until my heart rate slows. If you can control your physical symptoms, you can control your fear. The fear needs your body to go "aaah" first, before it can take your mind.

I can do this.

If only it had worked

I woke up in the dark, staring at the ceiling. You know that instant awake, that usually means you've heard something odd, or your last dream was too real, or, in my case, that my level of anxiety has just reached a boiling point.

I've gone to therapists in hope of helping my phobia. One woman specialized in phobias, and had great success with this new technique. It seemed to work, then the next day I was jumping out of my skin with anxiety. I wasn't just worried about that up-coming plane trip, I was simply nearly overwhelmed with fear. It was damn near paralyzing.

I called her up, and said, "What did you do me?"

She explained that her technique worked with the subconscious. So that you did all the grunt work of the therapy while you were asleep. Then you'd wake up refreshed, and during the day you wouldn't be working on the fear, only at night, when you couldn't feel all the terror. Nice theory. It had even worked for a good friend
of mine. Worked like a charm for her.

Why didn't it work for me? Interestingly enough she'd had this problem once or twice before with artists and writers. Apparently, some of us use our subconscious during the day. We're like very in touch with parts of our psyche that most human beings only access at night in dream state. I'd always thought that I was more in tune with the hidden parts of me, interesting to have it confirmed.

My subconscious and I are apparently too tight to sepearate. That means that the veil that most people have between their waking mind and their subconscious isn't really there for me. I didn't realize that other people did it differently.

Knowing I was a writer, why didn't the therepaist warn me? Because it hadn't happened with every writer she'd worked with, only a few. Apparently, even among other writers I'm the odd duck. Why doesn't that surprise?

A day for comics

Friday was a very disrupted day. Jon and I had an appointment in the morning, and we had parent/teacher conferences in the afternoon. Which means it was not looking good for more progress on the book. Sigh.

But in an effort to be productive, I went over the comic stuff. We had some cover roughs from Ron Lim. A really cool article from Marvel spotlight. And other stuff, because comic work is never quite done. Everything I did needed doing, and the comic is easier for me to do in smaller bites of time. Unfortunately, I'm one of those writers that needs hours to write on a novel, and yesterday was not looking good for the whole hours in a row thing. Oddly enough even working on the original comic script of FRIST DEATH with Jonathon was more user friendly for an hour at a time. I mean we could get up to speed and make progress. On my own with a novel, an hour has me just barely with my first cup of tea, and staring at the screen. Two hours is the minimum for me, and frankly at the end of two hours I'm just getting into the groove. I don't know if it was collaborating with Jonathon that made it quicker, or if script just is faster off the mark for me, maybe both. It will be interesting to find out down the road, if we do more scripts.

Yesterday was good

I went back to my desk after lunch and was much more productive yesterday. Part of it was, I think, that Charles came over and went to lunch with Jon and I. One of my resolutions for the year is to see my friends more often. So far, I've done two social evenings with different friends, and lunch with Charles, and I've got phone calls into other friends with my day planner at hand. Social time with friends doesn't just happen with a schedule as full as ours. You've got to plan your fun as seriously as you plan your work, or all you get done is work.

But the lunch helped bring me back to my desk refreshed. I still didn't want to work on the Merry book, or any book yesterday. Not sure why, oh yeah, that whole flying thing coming up. Anyway, I made myself a bargain. Two pages, just two pages, even a crappy two pages, on SWALLOWING DARKNESS and at the end of two pages, if I still felt uninspired I'd quit for the day. But a funny thing happened somewhere in those first pages, my muse and I got up some speed. I ended with five pages for the day. One page more than my official minimum. Very cool.

At the end of those pages, I was tired, and I was done for the day, but progress had been made. I was very happy with that.

The sun is hot, and I'm slow

I have been staring at the same page of the Merry book all morning. I haven't a sentence to my name. I am on page 51, but that's because I started the day on that page. I know part of the problem is that I get on a plane this weekend. I don't want to dwell on that, but I know the phobia is impeding me. It usually does. I've been really good at not panicking, until today. It gets better. It used to be I freaked six weeks in advance. Then four, then two, then one, then six days,five days, so I'm down to around four days. That's progress. It's good progress, but I'm still freaking.

When I'm panicking Anita is easier to write. Not sure why, but I know it's true. I wrote for the entire flight to England. I wrote long hand for eight hours. Finished the entire scene where Anita makes Nathaniel and Damian her metaphysical guys. Did other scenes, too, but that one stands out in my mind. I jump into Anita and drown, so I won't have to think of anything else. But Anita isn't due next, Merry is.

So, do I give up on Merry for now, and write on what my muse is most interesting in, or do I keep hitting my head against the brick wall. I'll tell you how out of touch I am today. It's freezing here, literally, but I was hot. I couldn't figure it out. Then I realized I was sitting in a huge patch of sunlight, and I'm wearing black. Why would I be hot? Hmm, let me think.

So, now I've closed the drapes, and strangely, the room is cooler. It only took me about two hours to figure that one out. So, not my best day for thinking. Problem is, my job is all about thinking. Okay, thinking and feeling.

Screw it, I'm going to lunch.

The work begins

It's been too long since I was working on the next Merry book, SWALLOWING DARKNESS. So I printed off the first fifty pages, which is what I've got. I reread them, made some small notes. Mistypes, mis-spellings, word order; small stuff. I also started the notes about the research I know I'll need to make some of the scenes work. Or, to make certain I've got the real life details as real as possible, so that all that fantasy can seem more solid. Reality is the backbone of your world, the rest comes from that. Or maybe the backbone of the world is the character, or the world building. I guess it depends on how you want to orient it as a writer.

But either way you cut it, you have to be real enough on the real world for the reader to belief all the fantastic stuff. If you can't make the reader believe your main character is ling in a hospital bed with real nurses and real doctors, then they'll never buy the eternally young, eternally handsome, harem of supernatural warriors. It takes a very serious dose of reality to get readers to follow you to faerie land, and believe that they actually made the visit.

I'll leave you with two quotes.

Good fiction is made of that which is real, and reality is difficult to come by.

Ralph Ellison


The problem with fiction, it has to be plausible. That's not true with non-fiction.

Tom Wolfe


Again, always nice to know that other writers have found the same truths. I find it comforting when I'm stuck in my office, by myself, trying to conjure worlds from thin air, that others have gone before me. If they can do it, I can do it.

We have a new favorite zombie movie

I have a new favorite zombie movie. It's called "Fido". No, that's not a mistype. Think an old-fashioned boy and his dog movie but the dog isn't exactly a dog. It's a zombie. The little boy's name in the movie is Timmy, so at one point in the movie his mother, played by Carrie-Anne Moss of Matrix fame, says to the zombie, the proverbial, is Timmy in trouble, speech? She doesn't actually say, "Is Timmy down the well, Lassie," but it's darn close. It was way too much fun.

It is set in circa 1950s America, if some sort of radioactive space cloud thing hit the earth and caused the dead to rise. The way civilization copes with zombies is both funny and frightening, but not in the typical horror movie way. It's more summed up with Timmy's question to his teacher, "Are zombies dead or alive?" Well, hmm, that's a very interesting question, Timmy, and the movie does sort of answer it, eventually. Oh, and the next door neighbor and his zombie, well, it's Robot Chicken Wrong. And if you don't know what I mean by that phrase, I'm not sure I can explain it, let's just say, it's wrong-wrong-wrongity-wrong. But in a fun way.

Some wounds never heal

No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.

Robert Frost

Frost is one of my favorite American poets. There are poems of his that I reread periodically. It's always nice when one of your literary heroes agrees with your own philosophy of writing. Of course, perhaps reading his work when I was in my mid-teens helped shape my own attitude towards writing. So maybe it's not that Frost shares my philosophy of writing, but that I embraced his without realizing it. We're always so impressionable as young writers. We're like wet clay waiting for someone to put their finger prints on us.

I chose the quote above, because I've been looking at the art for issue nine of the comic book. It's Phillip. I'll assume here that everyone has read the book GUILTY PLEASURES. If you have not this is a major, read major, spoiler. If you haven't finished the book, this is your last chance to stop reading and save the surprise, no, the shock.

Okay, I have to assume if you're still reading, you know what I'm about to type. Here goes: Seeing Ron Lim's art, with Phillip chained against the wall, so helpless, so hopeless, really hurt me. It's been over ten years since I wrote GUILTY PLEASURES. Over a decade since I created Phillip, and had to watch him die. I didn't know he was going to die until about a paragraph before Anita found him dead. I thought, until the last possible moment, we'd save him. But we didn't, we couldn't. It was the first time I cried for one of my characters.

I cried for his death. I cried because we couldn't save him. I cried because he'd been trying to get his life together, and making some progress, and now all of his chances were gone.

Ron and I went back and forth a little on Phillip, just as Brett Booth and I did. For some reason he seems a difficult character to pin down in art. But just as Brett finally nailed it, so did Ron. But whereas Brett's art had been confident, flirting, and more light-hearted; Ron's was Phillip when he was hurting, bleeding . . . Ron did such a good job at the first images of Phillip chained up and looking into the "camera" with that hopelessness in his eyes. Ron's art reminded me that Phillip didn't expect to be saved. He gave up before Anita did, before I did. It was all there in Phillip's eyes, all there staring up at me from the pencils.

I had to put the pencils away, and wait an extra day, because my initial reaction was that I hated them. I was angry, and it took me a little bit to figure out why. Of all the people we've lost in the books, Phillip's death hurt me and Anita the most. That pain, those shed tears, are probably one of the main reasons we have a cast of dozens but few deaths of main characters. It hurt too much.

I wrote back to Ron with some small changes, he made them. I told them how his art had effected me, and assured him that I was sane about all the other characters. It was just Phillip's death, and how well he had captured that look, that air of tragedy, that had messed with my head. Ron was actually flattered that his art had gotten such a reaction from me. I guess it was a complement.

I miss Phillip. I miss him almost like a friend that died young. You think about them every once in awhile. You wonder, would he have broken his addiction? Would he have straightened his life out? What would have changed in Anita's life if Phillip had survived that first book? Would we be looking at him as her one and only boyfriend, and would he have taken up too much room for Jean-Claude to invade? Or would it just have been Richard who wouldn't have found enough room to be in her life? Or would Phillip have simply been regulated to a minor role, and his living not have changed that much for Anita. I think that last is almost the saddest of all. That if he had lived it wouldn't have changed that much, except for him.

I don't know, and now we'll never know. He died young. He died horribly. Anita still dreams of him, and his death, and her failure. Because that's how she sees it, as her failure. We killed those that murdered him. We've had all the revenge we can have for Phillip. It didn't bring him back. It never does. More's the pity.

Feed the birds

Just finished filling the bird feeders. Didn't want to do it. It's so cold that going outside for any reasons looms like some sort of epic quest where you know there will be hardships. But we did it, Jon and I. I was actually out long enough filling the suet feeders that my finger tips started doing that hurting thing. That sharp hurting, just before it starts to burn from the cold, the next step after that is you stop feeling your finger tips. After that you get frost bite, but we weren't out nearly that long. I've had mild frost bite, and once you've had it, it makes you overly aware of the cold.

The birds are usually cautious for a little while after the feeders are filled, afraid of the newness, I guess. But by the time we got inside, unwrapped ourselves, and I had cleaned the suet off my fingers, there was a Downy woodpecker at one of the suet feeders. It's our smallest woodpecker in this country, not much bigger than a sparrow. A tiny black and white bird with a dot of crimson on the back of it's head if it's a boy, plain if it's a girl. The downy hadn't waited to see if it was safe, she had just headed in for food. When it is bitterly cold like this it's hard for them to find food, so the feeders become very important. Especially, if you've got the birds expecting the feeders to be filled. They'll treat your feeder area like a berry bush, or any other food source and will plan their winter territories around it. So, you gotta keep it up, especially when winter gets harsh. And it feels harsh out there right now. I am very glad to be in my nice warm house, sipping tea and watching my feathered friends come in to eat and drink. They are really liking the heated bird bath today.

Gremlins

Okay, the title of this post says it all. This was our day yesterday. First, the hot tub broke. The workmen are here fixing it now. Second, the door knob fell off my door. I tightened the little screws, but couldn't actually figure out how to get the pieces back together tight enough to hold. Jon has now fixed the door knob. Third, the water filter on the kitchen faucet broke too. In the middle of filling the kettle for Tea. Fourth, a file that I had Jon rename went missing. Logically, it had to be there on the computer, somewhere, but I could not find it. We had the copy Jon had made, so we duplicated that, and I have two identical files with different names which is what I wanted.

One file will be the next Anita book. The other file will be notes and plot outline, mostly a list of incidents that I know need to be in the book. Yes, it's that time again. Time to write, at least part, of the first chapter of the next book. Anita's voice is so loud at the end of months working with her, that I always do the beginning of the next book, so that months down the road I will have a start, and not have to face the blank screen. Eek. I do the same thing for Merry, most of the time. I always regret it when I skip this step, because it makes my job harder. Writing a entire book is hard enough, I don't need to complicate it.

Yes, yes, you do need to know what book is next is going to be about. With Merry, it's easy, because it's all one really big plot. Anita is harder, because there are more choices, but the end of one book usually still leads me to the next, sort of inevitably.

Though, I was surprised by the book that stepped up. I was all set to do Book A, when Book B tapped me on the shoulder. I thought, well, I haven't really started I'll try Book B for a few pages. I was having trouble getting Book A's first chapter anyway. Well, a couple of hours later I had ten pages of Book B. When I sat down last night for a just a few notes, I ended up with seven more pages. This book is ready to go, chomping at the bit, actually. Good, except for that whole need to write Merry next. SWALLOWING DARKNESS is also chomping at the bit, or was before I had to leave it to finish up BLOOD NOIR. I'm not sure my muse and I much care which series we work on, as long as we get to do some first draft, and don't have to get trapped in edits.

Laurell K Hamilton's Anita Blake Must Fight For Her Life!

From the pages of New York Times best-selling author Laurell K Hamilton's acclaimed novels comes Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter: Guilty Pleasures 8 (of 12)!

As her first visit to a freak party takes a deadly turn, Anita must fight her life while searching for the truth about the mysterious serial killer she's been trailing. But when the latest victim is discovered, things become personal for everyone's favorite Vampire Hunter! This issue also marks fan-favorite Ron Lim's debut as series artist, with covers from both Lim and Brett Booth!

Critics and fans alike continue to praise Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter: Guilty Pleasures, with ComicsBulletin.Com's Shawn Hill declaring, "the title has been an unqualified success."

"Look out, Buffy! Anita Blake is coming to take your slaying crown," gushed Richard George of IGN.Com.

But when two new suspects appear on the scene, where does Anita's investigation go from here? No Anita Blake fan can afford to miss this issue as Anita's investigation takes a shocking turn in Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter: Guilty Pleasures 8 (of 12)!
Plus, don't miss the new printings of the top-selling Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter: Guilty Pleasures Vol.1 HC and the upcoming Laurell K Hamilton's Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter: The First Death HC, collecting a brand new story by Laurell K Hamilton herself!

ANITA BLAKE, VAMPIRE HUNTER: GUILTY PLEASURES 8 (of 12) (AUG072279)

ANITA BLAKE, VAMPIRE HUNTER: GUILTY PLEASURES 8 (of 12) BOOTH VARIANT (DEC072158)
Written by LAURELL K. HAMILTON
Adapted by JESS RUFFNER
Pencils and Cover by RON LIM
Variant Cover by BRETT BOOTH
Parental Advisory…$2.99
FOC—1/17/08, On-Sale—2/6/08

LAURELL K. HAMILTON'S ANITA BLAKE, VAMPIRE HUNTER: THE FIRST DEATH HC (DEC072249)
LAURELL K. HAMILTON'S ANITA BLAKE, VAMPIRE HUNTER: THE FIRST DEATH HC VARIANT (DEC072250)
Written by LAURELL K. HAMILTON & JONATHON GREEN
Penciled by WELLINTON ALVES
Covers by BRETT BOOTH
Parental Advisory …$19.99
On-Sale—2/6/08

ANITA BLAKE, VAMPIRE HUNTER: GUILTY PLEASURES VOL. 1 HC NEW PRINTING ANITA VARIANT (JUL078185)
Written by LAURELL. K. HAMILTON
Adapted by STACIE RITCHIE AND JESS RUFFNER-BOOTH
Penciled by BRETT BOOTH
Cover by BRETT BOOTH
Parental Advisory …$19.99
On-Sale—NOW!

ANITA BLAKE, VAMPIRE HUNTER: GUILTY PLEASURES VOL. 1 HC NEW PRINTING JEAN CLAUDE VARIANT (JUL078186)
Written by LAURELL. K. HAMILTON
Adapted by STACIE RITCHIE AND JESS RUFFNER-BOOTH
Penciled by BRETT BOOTH
Cover by BRETT BOOTH
Parental Advisory …$19.99
On-Sale—NOW!

What Love Means

Jon and I had everyone work from home today. We have the house to ourselves, so rare a happening. It's so peaceful. We've just done lunch, and now it's time for the romantic part. What I had in mind was something more traditionally romantic, that would be difficult to do with a staff running about. But, I've let Jon pick his idea of romance. What did he pick? That we clean and organize his office.

Now, before you go, oh how unromantic, let me explain. I did a day where I helped him clean off his desk and begin organizing. It was great, his desk and the surrounding area is clean, neat, and useful. Then BLOOD NOIR ate the world. I haven't had a chance to go back and help him again. I promised him I'd help him with his office. He's been understanding, but I promised. What is romantic to one person has a lot to do with what makes them feel loved. The traditional flowers and sex, is only a small part of romance, actually. Because true romance makes a person feel loved, wanted, cared-for. To Jon, me keeping my word, is important to him. It makes him feel loved. Organizing his office makes him feel loved. Using my ability to organize, which is not one of his strengths, makes him feel cared-for.

What allows me to be okay with this being what we do on our romantic afternoon with the house to ourselves is the fact that Jon makes sure I get my idea of romance on a very regular basis. We both like the sex and flowers part of romance, but we both, also, have a list of things that don't seem very romantic, but if that list is neglected the hearts and flowers begin to wilt a little around the edges.

Love means different things to different people. It can even mean different things when your lover is in different moods. That's pretty tricky, but true. So, buy that rose, but remember that the way to your lady's heart may actually be doing the dishes, or helping put the kids to bed. The way to your man's heart, may not always be sexy lingerie, but actually showing a real effort to be interested in his hobby. I'm off to make my sweetie feel loved and cared-for. He'll get his chance to return the favor soon enough.

Driving the Foose, and a boo-boo

I drove the Foose to lunch for the first time. Not practice, but actual driving in traffic, parking, the whole nine yards. I did pretty good. I didn't kill it in traffic. I survived several red lights and stop signs and didn't kill the engine at any of them. Yea, for me. But I did have one problem. I scrapped the under carriage on the curb. I've scrapped the paint. Yes, you have to get down on your hands and knees to see it, but I'm still going to take it into the shop and get it fixed. I cannot believe I scratched the paint. I simply could not see how close the front of the car was to the curb. Sigh.

But, it's fixable. It's all good. I almost believe that. I was pretty bummed that I smooed the Foose, but it is fixable. In my birth family the first time I fell down and bloodied myself in a serious way, one of my uncles said, "I was a member of a family now." As if, before I spilled my blood, I wasn't really-real to them. So, I guess the Foose is now a real car, it has it's first boo-boo. Of course, I still have a scar from where I spilled my first blood. The Foose will not. But then paint smooths out so much easier than flesh.

We'll try to get some pictures of me with the car up next week.

Hot off the Press

Hot off the press isn't just a saying for us today. We are printing off the final draft, for now, of BLOOD NOIR, and the pages are literally hot as I lift them from the printer. Page count is 538. I'm hoping that the next Merry book, SWALLOWING DARKNESS, will be about the same, give or take.

Jon's uber-printer in his office had an issue, and we had to reprint everything from about page 100 on my smaller printer in my office. But it all worked. It's one of the reasons we have multiple printers. Redundancy isn't really redundant when you need that extra machine.

I have actually gotten through my music list from Audioslave to Nickelback, and all the alphabet in between. That doesn't count the morning work done to Marilyn Manson. But that was finally too harsh for me. Marilyn Manson, like Nine Inch Nails, is late night fair for me. Tomorrow if I work in the morning, I'll start with Nickelback because I'll never get through all their albums tonight, because I'm done. The rewrite is done!

Though, honestly, Merry isn't a Nickelback kind of girl, that's more Anita. I have no bloody idea what I'll listen to tomorrow. Oh, wait, the musical for SWALLOWING DARKNESS is "Beauty and the Beast,", now I remember. So, I'll probably start with that, because I'll be tired enough that I'll need to ease myself into it.

But tonight, we're done. We are so done. If we were less tired we'd celebrate, but honestly you have to recover a little when you've been working this intensely before you can enjoy the celebration. I've learned to give myself a couple of days to let the shock wear off, before I try and enjoy it all. Otherwise, I'm too wasted to do a good job of the whole celebrating thing. So a couple of days to recover, then we'll party. Tonight, it's just get it in Fed-Ex, find something for dinner, find some television, or DVD, that is Trinity safe, then sleep. Sleep sounds really good.

Research buddies

The last time I did a book where I had to go out of town to a place I'd never been to research I had my friend Deborah Millitello with me. She braved New Mexico with me to help me give Edward his home. Brave? You question that it takes bravery to go on a research trip with me? Don't be cute, you know what I write.

But, it was not my fault that she twisted her ankle, that was just a misstep. It happens. At least we'd walked around Albuquerque and Santa Fe and gotten most of what I wanted to see done. But the twisted ankle, and me getting elevation sickness for the first time ever, did keep us from going to the Anasazi ruins. I had this great idea about using the ruins for the climax of the book, but since Debbie and I were unable to travel to see them, I had to let it go as an idea. If I don't see a place, I just have trouble writing it, so, maybe when we return to New Mexico, we'll get to use the setting. Debbie, bravely, volunteered to go with me bad ankle and all, but the locals that had recommended the site said it was quite a hike even for the able-bodied. I told Debbie under no circumstances was she going to try it injured. I took it as a sign from the universe that I didn't need to go this trip.
Besides, I also wasn't leaving Debbie behind at the hotel room by herself. I'm very much a pack animal, you don't leave a man, or woman, behind, and you don't drag your friend off on a research trip, get her injured, then dump her at the hotel. Not cool.

This research trip for BLOOD NOIR I got to take Jon, husband and partner. It was very cool to be able to take Jon, and know that he was my extra set of eyes, ears, and sensory memory. I always like to take one other person with me, if possible, to make sure I'm remembering correctly when it's somewhere I've never been before, and I'm about to put it in a book. Just cautious that way. Or is that paranoid? Hmm. Tomato, Tomaato, it's still a vegetable. If you're one of those people that think a tomato is a fruit then have your delusion, it's so a veggie. I mean Veggie Tales wouldn't lie to us, and Bob the Tomato is one of their main characters. Proof positive that tomatoes are veggies.

Anyway, my point was it was good to be able to take the person I live with, and am married to, as my research buddy. I think what makes Jon and I work so well together now is that we had eight years of friendship before it ever occurred to us to date. We knew each other in that friend way. You know what I mean. If you're friends with a guy, and you have no plans to ever date him, you're more yourself. Anyone can pretend while their dating that they're more than they are, or less of something you don't want. They can pretend to be perfect, but after eight years, it was too late to pretend. We both knew most of our foibles. We were friends. I'd never dated someone I'd been that good a friend with before, what kept it from being weird was that we started dating by accident. We were just going out to movies and concerts as friends, then one day we realized somewhere in all that friendship, it had turned into a date. Neither of us could actually pin-point the moment it changed. Weird, huh?

But because we weren't dating, we weren't pretending either. We were just us, and that worked just fine. It certainly cut through a lot of the crap that you usually go through when you're dating. We knew each other too well to play games, or hide. It was years too late to pretend to be braver, or less neurotic, or less pushy. As Jon and I are fond of saying, "I knew that before I married you." Knew what? Fill in the blank. We actually knew most of our stories before we married. You know the ones. The stories that everyone tells from childhood, high school, college, whatever. At six years of marriage, seven years as a couple, and eight years as friends on top of that, we can both say, tell that one, or come in part way through a conversation and know exactly what story it is. Repetition hasn't dimmed the pleasure, though now instead of either of us wanting to find out what happens next, since we know, it's the pleasure of our partners enjoyment of sharing the story with a fresh audience.

Jon and I both probably wouldn't have dated each other on purpose. We'd been afraid of ruining the friendship. Silly us.

Oh, and Debbie's first book is out. You can find it at Lulu, for a printed copy.[Jon here: There are a lot of electronic formats out there, so my best bet for that is to google "Deborah Millitello Thief's Luck" and whatever your ebook format is. /Jon]

I want to go home, at least for work.

I'm remembering why BLOOD NOIR is the first big book since OBSIDIAN BUTTERFLY to be set out of town. Yeah, MICAH, was set in Philly, but we saw the drive from the airport, the hotel room, and a cemetery. (Replace the cemetery with a book signing and it's about what Jon, Charles, and I see on tour.) The book was less than two hundred pages manuscript length. I think it was about 180, no more than a little over two hundred. There just wasn't room to dwell on the fact that we were in another city. But, BLOOD NOIR is over five hundred pages. There's time to dwell.

I'm remembering now that there was more than one reason that OBSIDIAN BUTTERFLY was hard to write. By leaving town, and only taking one familiar character with us, and making it a bigger and more complex plot, I made my job harder. First, I have to create a supporting cast of new characters. If I stay in St. Louis, my extended cast is right there, dead on. I know them all. I need a policeman, I've got Dolph and Zerbrowski and the rest of the Spook Squad. I need a vampire, I've got Jean-Claude and all his kiss of vampires. I need a wereanimal, well there's Richard and his wolves; Rafael and his rats; Narcissus and his hyenas; Haven and his lions, well, you get the idea. But in a strange town with just Jason, I'm starting from scratch. It's like reinventing the wheel by pounding it out of rock and putting a wooden spoke through it, when at home in the garage you've got a Porsche 911.

We do see some of the extended cast on stage. Jean-Claude has some of his most poignant moments early on. Richard comes with some of the werewolves, and he, too, has some really good moments. But it's mostly Anita, Jason, and brand new characters. Some of which we'll probably see again. So, not only did I have to reinvent the wheel, but I've added to the extended cast, which sometimes feels as if it's a cast of thousands. Until I hit a book where I'm without them, then I feel bereft, and remember why I have them in the first place. I have a stable of steady working characters so that I have most of my parts full in any given "script". I like not having to go hunting inside my brain for new characters, because I've already done the work. I have what I need here in St. Louis, in my pretend version of the world. Not so, when I go outside my home turf.

I did the out of town research just like I did for OBSIDIAN BUTTERFLY, and it's working, but it's slower and more confusing than writing about the old familiar haunts. I'll say this, the next book is going to be set here in St. Louis. Of that, I'm 98% certain. It would have to be a damned good idea to lure me into another research trip book. I have several planned, but BLOOD NOIR has reminded me why I keep pushing them off. It's also why I'd originally planned on this being another novel-lite like MICAH. JASON seemed a fine title for another novel-lite. But Jason had other ideas. The book is good, I'm happy with it. I got surprised a lot, just like in OBSIDIAN BUTTERFLY with Edward. But damn, I'm ready for this book to be in New York for good.

But, I got to the end of the manuscript today. Tomorrow is just about hitting the sticky notes that are left. Finalizing some choreography, and some physical description of rooms and locations. I also have a hand full of things I just can't decide which way to jump. Yes, or no; this or that. I also have a list of police questions. I'll be contacting my various experts in that field. Most of that will wait until Monday. If push came to shove the book could go to my editor with the police questions not answered, because I will be seeing this book again once she's edited it, and I can fix the police questions then. My editor made some comments that I took notes on, but she hasn't done what I call the minutia edit, yet. But she will, and then the book will come home to roost. By the time a writer finishes the last edit on a book, the really-real last edit, we're sick of it. No matter how much you love it, having to read and reread, and go over first your editor's notes, then the copy-editor's notes, well, you begin to have to be careful not to start changing stuff because you've read it until it's not fresh. Change, or answer only what the editors ask. Nothing more. (Strangely, I think I've reached the point with BLOOD NOIR already, where I'm having to fight myself not to change things because I've just read that scene one too many times. It doesn't bode well for when the manuscript comes back next time from New York. I'll have to be extra careful not to edit the book to death, which I've seen some writers do.)

For once, I'm hoping my editor takes her time on her end, because I can think of few things that would discourage me as much as a quick turn-around forcing me to go right back to this manuscript. I need a break before I'm asked to edit this again, so I'm not tempted to simply mess with the writing just so I'll have something fresh to read. Boy, do I need to be able to work on the first draft of SWALLOWING DARKNESS. My muse and I need some first draft to spell us from all the editing. Soon, soon. Maybe by Tuesday.

The edits ate the world

The edits ate the world today. They will continue to do so for the next several days, though not as completely as today because Trinity is with us this weekend. Got to do that whole parent thing. We finished work at 11:00 P.M. last night. Tonight we knocked off at four, or four-thirty, so we could say hi to the kiddo. We watched the new episode of Psych, as a family, then when Trinity went to bed, we watched the new CSI from last night off Tivo. It's Friday so she got to stay up a little late. Speaking of late, if the work is done for the day, and the television is off for the night, then we're off to bed ourselves. Good night everyone, sleep tight, don't let the vampires bite. You say it your way, I'll say it mine. Besides, if I'm choosing blood suckers, it's not bed bugs I'd want to be interrupting my sleep. Ick.

Edits, and a title for Merry

Edits for BLOOD NOIR continue a pace. Went over more of the colors for issue #8 of the comic. Talked to our artist, Ron Lim, about covers and characters, and future issues. We even talked about THE LAUGHING CORPSE, and CIRCUS OF THE DAMNED, though there are days when I just want to survive to the end of GUILTY PLEASURES, and don't want to think about the next comic. But that's on a bad day when I feel like I've had a thousand and one interruptions. On a good day, I can't wait to see a visual for new characters, and watch the scenes come to life in pictures.

But most of the day was spent with the edits. Jon and I've actually started setting a timer for the comic work. When the timer goes off, we have to stop editing the art, or whatever. Once BLOOD NOIR is off to New York, things will open up a little. Naw, not really. When it goes off to New York, I get to work on Merry #7, which finally has a title; SWALLOWING DARKNESS.

We're putting the title in the fan club newsletter that should be going out in about five days, and we're putting the new title in it. But I couldn't wait to share. MISTRAL'S KISS, A LICK OF FROST, now, SWALLOWING DARKNESS; I sense a theme.

The first four books had their theme; A KISS OF SHADOWS, A CARESS OF TWILIGHT, SEDUCED BY MOONLIGHT, and a STROKE OF MIDNIGHT. It would be nicely linear if we did four books with the men's name theme, then four more with another theme, but the name theme may go for more than four books. I think it will. I'm already working on new ideas using some of the other men's names. We'll see. But first things first, BLOOD NOIR off to my publisher, then finish SWALLOWING DARKNESS. I'll worry about the next title after all that is done. Okay, I'm already making notes on new Merry titles, but not in a serious way. Just, if something catches my fancy. Do not ask what the next Anita title is, because I have no idea. I have at least three, maybe four plots that could be the next Anita book. Until I know which one comes next, titles are pointless.

Painting the Chapel, but watch out for the trim work

I did all eleven things on my to-do list, plus two scheduled appointments, plus a whole bunch of comic stuff that was due, plus sorted stuff on the kitchen island, and had a staff meeting. It's beginning to feel like a job around here. I'm a writer, we're supposed to spend all our time alone, being creative and morose. We're not supposed to have a staff, or have meetings, or phone conferences, or . . . The real world of a successful writer is just not exactly what you think it will be. It's a lot busier. It's full of a lot more people, and more interruptions. It's a lot more like, well, work-work.

I actually have a daily planing calender this year. I've never had one before, but I have so many different projects, and more bids for my time coming in almost daily, that I just can't keep it all organized. I have one of those calenders that has the time on one side from eight in the morning until seven at night, and a space to the side for notes. I'm using it for my to-do list. Because let's face it, by the time I've filled up that space with things to do, I won't get more than that done in a day. Nope.

Tomorrow already has one business phone call scheduled, but at the top of the to-do list, and so far all by itself is BLOOD NOIR. I gotta get that out of the house. I've reached that point with the edits that I just need it out of the house. I always get sort of blue when I'm editing, because to me the book is done. I know everything that happens, and we're just sorting commas, and putting in research. But the book is done, so my interest is elsewhere. Where is my interest? Merry.

I had to stop at about fifty pages on Merry, and due to the edits, and other obligations, I haven't been back to it, but it's really what I want to be doing. I'm like most creative types if I'm bored it's trouble. Interest me, and it's great, bore me, and I so don't care. I do my work, but it's grunt work, and I'd much rather be painting the Sistine Chapel, then painting the trim on a house. A new book is like painting the Chapel. Editing is making sure you don't get the trim color on the wall color; tedious. The holidays slowed me down, and now I've fallen into the Sloth of Despond. Most writers know what I mean, when you just feel like you're slogging along and the book will never be done enough to be, well, done. It's the time when you either start editing when you don't need to, or when you throw your hands up and get it out of the house before it's ready. Either holding on too long, or sending it out like a premature baby to shiver in the cold. Either way, not good.

I'll try for some perspective tomorrow. For tonight, Say good night, Gracie. Good night, Gracie. (If you didn't get that joke, then you don't know your television history.)

Guilty Pleasures #7 is out!

In all the holiday hoopla I forgot to blog about the fact that issue #7 of GUILTY PLEASURES the comic book is out. It's been out for a few days, since last Friday. My bad not to mention it here. So, if you've been waiting to see the next issue run to your local comic store now, before they're gone. We heard complaints that the first six issues of the individual comics disappeared pretty quickly. So, only a few days behind, I let you know, if you didn't know already, that #7 is here.

It's the last issue with Brett Booth's art. I felt pretty sad about that, but now having seen Ron Lim's art all the way through #8 in pencils and now we're getting colors, and I can't be sad. I'll miss Brett, because he was cool and a huge fan of the books, so we had that short hand going, but Ron has made Jon and I very happy with his take on Anita and her world. I'll tell you how happy he's made me. Today we got pencils for #9, and I was so blown away with them, that I totally missed that he had missed one of Anita's scars. The images were so cool, that I just didn't see anything else. I had that problem with Brett sometimes, too. I've learned that when the art gets good, I gotta look at it, then put it away, then look again. The first time through I'm just going, this is sooo cool. The second time around, I'll catch more stuff. But it has to be a quick second look; comics waits for no man, or woman.

Ann and Missy, our thematic consultants, caught the scar and some other stuff first. I don't know if they look at it sooner than I do, or are just more grown-up about it. They seem to get back with nice, concrete catches, while I'm still going isn't this nifty? I guess one of the reasons I've enjoyed the comic so much is that it does make me feel less grown-up and more just happy. It's work, make no mistake about that, but seeing the art work come across the computer, watching specific scenes come to "life" with visuals is still amazing to me. Seeing Ron turn Jess's script, from my book, into pictures still has a very high fun factor for me. Sometimes, it's got to be about the fun factor.

Driving Miss Laurell, and I really suck at Halo 3

Went driving in the Foose today. Due to the bad weather here the Mustang has been in the garage, to keep it safe. I still can't believe I own a car that I'm worried about driving in the weather. It seems wrong somehow. I mean it's a car, but, it's also my baby, and you don't drive the baby in the snow.

I was doing good enough that I drove us to the local bookstore. I did fine, until the busy parking lot. Then there were all sorts of other cars, and, worse yet, slow pedestrians. I swear, it was like the families on their Sunday outings knew just how to time themselves, so I kept having to stop. I'm not sure whose nerve failed first, mine or Jon's, but he parked the car, and drove it out through the maze of packed cars, vultureing drivers, and inattentive pedestrians. It's like they were confident I wouldn't hit him, or something. I wouldn't hit them on purpose, but rolling backwards into them after the Foose died, well, that was why we switched drivers. Sigh.

I was at about sixty percent at driving the stick, now I'm up to seventy-five percent success at stop signs and on hills. It's an improvement and if the weather stays nice I'll get more practice. My goal is by February to be at ninety percent. That'll be good enough for government work.

Jon told me today that I had to be one with the car, or some Zen, Jedi thing. He did preface the statement with, "I know this sounds silly, but . . ." It did sound silly but, . . . I'm trying to become one with the car. It helped more than trying to feel the clutch, or about as much.

I did a first today, I attempted to play my first console game. I played Halo 3. It was pitiful. You know how in chess a player will take one of their important pieces off the board so a new player has a chance, like a rook, or a bishop? Well, Jon handicapped himself by killing me only with melee attacks. Up close and personal or nothing, and from the front no assassinations. I watched my player figure turn in circles as he tried to be fair, and I couldn't figure out how to hold still long enough for him to find my front and be fair. It was sad. I finally just stayed in one place, and told Jon, "Kill me, or come by and let me kill you. I have no idea where I am." I shot myself in the foot twice, and not at all on purpose. I just forgot which button fired and which one let me pick up a new weapon.

We've decided we may try something where my perspective is more third person. Maybe I'll try Assassin's Creed, or Lego Star Wars. New games that I can suck at, ooh, I can't wait. No, really, I was so bad at Halo 3 today that even I thought it was funny.

New Year's Resolutions

Have you made your New Year's resolutions yet? I guess I have, though they aren't technically New Year's resolutions. They are just things I wanted to get done and found that the year ended before I got to them.

In between working on Merry #7, as first draft, and the edits for BLOOD NOIR, I've been cleaning my office. Sorting that stack of papers that has been sitting for months. I have a tendency to keep hard copy of books. It goes back to the old days when paper was the only way to keep a copy of anything. Do any of you remember when a computer was not an option to save to? I may have written my first book on a computer, but my first stories were written on a typewriter. So, keeping paper copies was very important. I also had moments when the computer ate my files. Even my first husband, who was a computer engineer, could not save some of the files early on. They had become corrupted. Corrupted. It sounds so much more fun than the truth. All my hard work had become gibberish, or vanished into the ether. Those early computer mishaps scarred me for years. I was paranoid about back-ups. Then, just in the last two years we had the great computer crash. Do you guys remember that? Disksavers saved my ass.

That mystery computer moment, was actually a physical problem with the hardisk itself. For some reason it had scarred itself, the disk I mean. Jon, also a computer wizard, doesn't know why it happened. Disksavers couldn't tell us why it happened, only what, and save our data. So, paper.

But, I found a copy of A STROKE OF MIDNIGHT, and a partial copy of A KISS OF SHADOWS with notes and everything. Entire scenes that never got used, and characters written out. I had no idea I still had these pages. I'd saved them with the idea that the characters and scenes would get used later, but at this point in book seven, I know they are not going to be useful. So, they went in the shred box.

The corner of my big desk is clean for the first time in months.

Jon's office is finally organized, a little.

I cleaned off my altar, and redid it. Much leaner, simpler. I'd gotten so many nifty things on my altar that it was confusing to the eye and getting hard to work with. I've got it boiled down to the minimum, and it just feels better.

We cleaned off the coffee table in the family room, and have kept it clean for about a week. A record for that table. My goal is to clean it off every night before bed. Completely clean every night.

We cleaned off the island in the kitchen about the same time, and have kept it clean, though it's the hardest to stay ahead of clutter-wise. But a girl's gotta have a goal. Clean off the island in the kitchen every night before bed, so at least you don't loose ground.

I was able to eat breakfast in the breakfast nook with it's bay window for the first time in years this week. We'd had so much trouble with clutter on the small table there, that I'd stated, we either clean it off and use it, or git rid of the table. Well, we cleaned it off. Frankly, I'd given up on the breakfast nook. It's been so cool watching the birds at the bird feeders, and the heated bird bath while I have breakfast.

You know, I was feeling a little stressed about how few pages I'd accomplished today, but just listing all the above has made me more cheerful. Cool.

I tend to do the big things in my life. It's the small things that tend to pile up for me. But there is a lot of satisfaction in getting the small things taken care of. Now that we're getting the clutter under control, the only other thing that didn't get done last year is an exercise program that we can actually stick to. We've fallen off the exercise bandwagon in the last few months, and have to get back on the it. Find a way to fit that in the schedule and I'm pretty much finished with my list of goals from last year. Nifty.

Jason Name Contest

Laurell hasn’t been able to settle on a stage name for Jason. One he uses as his stripper name. So we are opening it to a contest!

That’s right we are asking you to name Jason’s stage persona. The winner will be chosen by Laurell. The winner will also appear in the acknowledgements of Blood Noir and receive a signed hard copy of the book.

In the case that more than one person submits the same name and it gets chosen, the earliest entry will win.

Please do not send more than one name per email. So if you have two suggestions, they need to be in separate emails.

Email accounts@laurellkhamilton.org.
Subject line of email (title): Jason Stage Name
Body of email: Name and address.

This contest will end January 18th. At the close of the contest, all submissions will be deleted. We will not share your name or any other info, nor will it be kept beyond making sure the winner receives their prize. Should it be returned as undeliverable, an alternate winner will be chosen.

Should Laurell not like any of the submissions, one winner will be chosen to receive a hardback signed copy of Blood Noir from all the submissions.

So now put on your thinking caps and come up with a name for his stage persona.

A little bird told me it was New Years

Happy New Year, everyone. May it be safe, happy, and prosperous for all.

Among birders there is a tradtion that the first bird you see in the new year is sort of a theme for that year. Some birders travel to exotic locales so they have a good chance of seeing something, well, exotic. For some birders it's more about adding to the life list, but for many of us, myself included, it's more spiritual. The first bird you see will be a theme for the year. Say, you see a woodpecker. They're about new rythmns, beating your own drum. So, it might mean a year of new things, or of finding your own beat to dance to. One year, I got up to silence and no birds. Nothing fluttered, anywhere. It was downright weird, since we have a lot of bird life in our yard normally. But there were squirrels in the back yard, and squirrels in the front yard. I finally realized my animal for the year was squirrel. What did that tell me? Well, it could mean a lot of things. Am I saving up for the future? Am I so worried about the future and what might go wrong that I can't enjoy the present? Squirrels also soclize and play a lot. Was I not doing enough of that? They are also one of the sentinels of the forest, so was I not heeding a warning. It actually turned out to be about anxiety about the future, and that sense of never having enough, never being safe. (A lot of us that were raised below the poverty line have that vauge sense of anxiety.) So, I worked on my issues, and tried to trust the universe more. I also tried to play and socilize more. By the end of the year I was a happier, mentally and emotionally healthlier, more well socilized person.

Animal books we use here are anything by Ted Andrews, but espcially ANIMAL-WISE and ANIMAL-SPEAK. I've also started using ANIMAL SPIRIT GUIDES. I still prefer the Andrew's books, but Steven D. Farmer, Ph. D., has insights to offer, as well. Also, once you have your bird or critter, read up on it, the real animal. Find out it's habits, what time of year it's most active, what it eats, how it sleeps. The real animal can give you a lot of insight into what exactly the lesson might be. It's all very subjective, but I've found it useful, so I pass it on.

So, that's our tradion for New Year's morning. For those wondering what we did for the Eve itself, we stayed home. Trinity got to have a speical party at Grandma's with her best friend. Jon and I got to stay home and be just the two of us. We marthaoned season four of HOUSE, that we'd downloaded from Amazon. We're caught up now. Pout.

We had our own private version of ringing in midnight, just the two of us. No one to complain that the kiss was too much for public consumption, because we weren't in public. I'm finding that the more public a personea I'm getting, the less public I want to be on my off time.

I'll try to do a blog in a few days that is a sort of retrospect of the good and bad of 2007 for us. But today, go out and find your bird, or your animal. Or don't. Do whatever your tradtions are, and we'll do ours. It's all about doing what works for you. For those of you who over indulged last night, did you know that in Terry Prachett's DISC WORLD books, there is an, Oh, God, of Hangovers? His name is Bilious.