Blog Without A Name

The first answer

Methodology:  Choose a question from the screened comments on this post.

I received 35 responses to this post, containing 65 questions.  One response  contained a record 22 questions.

More than half of the questions received are massive spoilers for the Liaden Universe®.  This is fair — the name of the game, after all, is Ask Me Anything, not, I’ll Answer Anything.

So!  Today’s question is!

Do your characters sometimes head in a different direction than you were planning in your stories? And if so what do you do, do you try to force them into the original direction, cut that scene out and change characters, see where they want to go, or something else? How do you deal with a stubborn character?

Our-and-my characters always have their own ideas about where they’re going, why they’re going there, and what they will and won’t do when they get there.

We consider this a feature.

Characters who have their own ideas about themselves and their lives, and strong feelings about what is proper — or needed — are what we want.  This may occasionally spoil or even void a scene, which is certainly inconvenient, but scenes can be rewritten, after all.  Stories are about characters.  To tell our stories properly,  we need to listen to the characters.

Being character-driven writers means that we are what’s sometimes called “organic writers” — which means we don’t produce an outline at the beginning of a story and stick with it, come ice or nor’easter.  We do start with a general idea of where we, mere authors, think the story’s going, but even that’s subject to change.  As a rule, the things that must happen, happen because they are necessary to the character(s).  I would say “to the character(s) arc,” but that would imply that we have some kind of control over that.

I have gone into a book knowing that one particular character, created for that book, would not survive their arc.  In fact, they would redeem themselves in death.  Except. . .in the course of the book, they redeemed themselves many times over, and bought back their life, in essence.  Which meant I needed to write a different ending, but, hey — that’s what writers are for.

Dealing with a stubborn character — Steve and I learned our lesson there on the very first Liaden book — Agent of Change — where we were working with — a very simple outline.  But one of the set pieces was that Val Con would arrive at a certain place in need of transportation, and that he would therefore steal a spaceship.  In fact, as it clearly stated in the outline, he was to steal a ship belonging to a friend, that was berthed at the station.

I was lead on Agent, by reason of having no day-job at the time, and I was zipping right along, barely able to type fast enough to keep up with Miri and Val Con, and there!  We got to the space station, there was the ship, and Val Con — stopped.

Stopped dead, right there on the page.

I figured I needed a break, got up, took a walk, came back, wiggled my fingers over the keys and said to Val Con, “OK, then!  Time to steal a spaceship!”

Nothing happened.

I showed him the outline, where it said, clearly, Val Con steals ship.

He shrugged.

Nothing happened.  I pushed.  I put in a line, typed *** to indicate a scene change, and tried to jump ahead, to where he was already on the ship.

Nope, nada, nothing.

I went back to the original scene, and tried to give him a little shove down toward the dock, and was informed that yes, I was the one with the typewriter, and I could, in theory, make him steal the ship, but if I did, he would never work for me again.

Well, that was unnerving, so I got up and went into the kitchen to make bread.

Eventually, Steve came home from his day-job, took a look at my face, and said,  “What’s wrong?”

“Val Con won’t steal the spaceship.”

“Oh, won’t he?”  said Steve.  “I’ll talk to him, OK?”

“OK,” I said, and started to pull stuff to make dinner.

He disappeared into the living room (my desk was in a corner of the living room in those days), and I heard the typewriter start, then stop.  A couple lines were typed; paper was ripped out of the platen.  New paper was rolled in, a couple keystrokes, then. . .nothing.

At dinner, Steve said, “Val Con won’t steal the spaceship.”

“Right,” I said, and we put our heads together and talked the scene over and how we’d gotten to the scene, and, eventually, realized our error.  Val Con and the owner of the ship he was to steal were friends.  Val Con did have his honor, and while he might do many things, steal from a friend, he would not.

So, we, as writers, had a couple choices before us.  We could change the ship-to-be-stolen, so that it no longer belonged to a friend.  This was actually the easiest solution, but we thought about it some more, and decided that there was a better solution, and we went back a few pages in the manuscript and wrote in a sentence where the friend gave Val Con permission to use any resource belonging to the friend that he might need.

After that adjustment was made, we went back to the space station — and Val Con was already moving toward that ship, a spring in his step, and reviewing the best places to Jump for.

So, yanno — that’s how you deal with a stubborn character.

Here ends the answer to the First Question.

Bread on the waters

So, here’s a thing.

Yesterday, I saw on Twitter a person I don’t know, but who had been retweeted by someone I do know, as is the custom on Twitter, complaining, bitterly, that authors who are on book tour should take a moment to think of those authors who would KILL to go on a book tour, but aren’t/can’t/won’t ever, before they start complaining about the Challenges of the Road. They, the writers on tour, need to understand how privileged they are, and how much it hurts the feelings of those authors who would KILL &c to see authors of book tours complaining about their good luck.

It was, in short, a call for someone who was having a particular experience, and reacting to it, to shut up already because they were somehow hurting people who were having a different experience.

Now, here’s the thing. Steve and I have been on (very minor) book tours, friends and colleagues have been on (rather major) book tours, and we can all tell you that it is not all fairy coaches, feasts, and acclaim.  There are good moments; meeting readers, and booksellers is always a treat, though traveling is a mixed blessing, especially since you usually only get to see the inside of bookstores, hotel rooms, escort cars, trains and/or planes.  Also, you’re far away from home; it’s unlikely you’re going to get any work done; it’s often a challenge to get a good meal; you won’t sleep well; and (in the case of some of our colleagues and friends) the focus of book tour planners is to hit as many venues as possible; the notion that the author might subscribe to human frailty isn’t always reflected in the itinerary.

In short, there’s a lot of material to talk about in re a book tour, should one happen to be undertaking such a thing. Most authors have a reader base, with whom they communicate, by blog, by Twitter, or Facebook, or Whatever.  And so we continue to communicate, it being just about the only thing we can do while touring.

Now, it seems to me that most writers on a book tour are talking to their readers and fans, and aren’t thinking about any one else, at all.  Perhaps this is wrong in them, but I’d say it’s human nature, really.

I also. . .think — honestly do think — that the writer whose feelings were damaged isn’t really thinking this thing through.

The writer on tour is giving valuable information about book tours. Before our first tour, we contacted friends and colleagues who had gone before and asked them what to expect, how to cope, what was normal; what was unacceptable; &c.

By reading the feed, or the blog, or the wall of a writer on tour, other writers are getting that information, live, as it happens.  This would seem to be a benefit, not only for the readers and fans of the writer on tour, but also for the whole community of writers, most especially those who aspire, some day, to be on tour.

So, that.

Tomorrow!  I will open the Sekrit Grab Bag of Questions and post my first answer.

If you have a question to ask — go here and do so.

Ask Me Anything

So, they tell me that spring is coming.  Or at least Daylight Savings Time.

What say we get the website loosened up and moving again?

You — yes, you! — may Ask Me A Question in comments.  All questions will be kept Sekrit, and on Wednesday, March 13 — Anything Can Happen Day Times Two! — I’ll start answering questions here in the blog, one at a time, questions chosen at my discretion.

Sound like fun?

Cool!

Let’s go.

In which the author is seen to be not QUITE vacuuming a cat

So, I’m cleaning out files on my desktop, and moving those that survive the purge to Dropbox, so they’ll be ready to upload to Moose, when I get him online, hopefully realsoonnow*.  Like, maybe by Monday coming.

I will say that it’s amazing how much digitized stuff you can accumulate in a few decades.  Some of it is clearly no longer of use — if you donated to Fledgling and haven’t claimed your book by now, you’re straight outta luck.  For instance.

There are harder choices, of course.  Old photographs are forever, naturally. . .

Steve at Boskone 45. Photo by Sharon Lee

. . .but there’s no real reason to keep advertisements for long-out-of-print editions of our work.

. . .except, yanno, nostalgia.

Anyway, that’s what I’m doing.  Work continues on the as yet titleless story, which now weighs in at about 6700 words.  I could wish that was moving along more rapidly, but then — I always do.

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*Moose arrived in November, and I was going to get Right On That, except the book took more time than I had predicted, and then there was Real Life, but, now!  Now that the book is done, and before another is fairly started!  Now is the time to move house.

More on signed copies of Accepting the Lance

After a review of procedures and past adventures in the taking of pre-orders, Uncle Hugo has agreed to undertake the task.  The pre-order option for signed copies of Accepting the Lance will appear in the Uncle Hugo’s online web catalog after Labor Day.

Repeat:  Yes, there will be signed books available from Uncle Hugo’s, which you may order after Labor Day.  Yes, I will post a reminder (and, as in past years, instructions) when ordering is live.

Everybody cool now?

Good.

Signed Copies of Accepting the Lance

We here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory have been in discussions with the Uncle (aka Don Blyly at Uncle Hugo’s SF Bookstore in Minneapolis).  We have established that said Uncle is interested in accepting pre-orders for SIGNED copies of Accepting the Lance.

Details will follow:  Watch this space.

Or, yanno, the skies.

Books read in 2019

8.  Lies Sleeping, Ben Aaronovitch
7.  The Luckiest Lady in London, Sherry Thomas
6.  Release the Virgins, Michael A. Ventrella, editor (read aloud with Steve)
5.  Becoming, Michelle Obama
4. Agnes and the Hitman, Jennifer Crusie & Bob Mayer (read aloud with Steve; re-read for me; first read for him)
3. the unbeatable Squirrel Girl, Ryan North, Erica Henderson
2. Alliance Rising, CJ Cherryh & Jane S. Fancher (read out loud with Steve)
1.  A Shilling for Candles, Josephine Tey (read out loud with Steve)

Professional Updatery

There are Four — 4, that’s FOUR — points of possibly interesting information below, to wit:

1. Accepting the Lance pre-order; 2. Podcast availability; 3. …Lance cover reveal; 4. How to order the cover art

For those who may be interested in such things — Liaden Universe® novel Accepting the Lance by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller is now available for pre-order from Amazon*.  Here’s your link.

The podcast of Steve reading Lee and Miller’s short story, “A Choice of Weapons,” formerly only available to Patreon subscribers, has now been made public.
You may listen to it here.

A couple days ago, we showed you David Mattingly’s art, which was destined to become the cover for Accepting the Lance.

We are now pleased to show you the actual cover:

 

For those who aspire to own a print of the original artwork (shown here), David Mattingly often makes a limited number of his cover art for sale.  You may write to him at david at davidmattingly dot com.
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*Hardcover only.  No, I don’t know why Baen ebooks cannot be preordered through Amazon or BN or, or, or — so it’s an Entire Waste of Your Time and My Time to ask me this, ‘k?

Finis

For those who have been following the story that began with my sister’s death in December and my subsequent stewardship of our father’s affairs. . .

Over the last week, his condition had steadily declined; last night at 11:55 the hospice nurse called to say that he had passed on.

 

Home Again

So. . .

Because of Geography, mostly, and also Timing, we decided to spend Wednesday night in the Glorious Metropolis of Bangor, arriving at the was-EMMC, now-Northern Lights (sigh) Cardiac Center at 6:15 am on Thursday.  Steve was checked in, and we passed into the business portion of the unit, where tests were run, and questions were asked, and asked, and the specialist was introduced, and prep was prepped, until we parted company at about 8:15, he to be wheeled to that region known as “upstairs” to have the battery changed in his ICD, and I to repair to the (really very nice, bright, and comfy) waiting area.

I had in my back pocket a card issued by Interventional Services, which listed Steve’s patient number, so that I could check his progress on the “whiteboard” in the waiting room.  This is something like the Arriving/Departing board at a train station:  It listed Patient Number and where in the process they happened to be at any particular time (except, instead of Train 449 Leaving Track 6 On Time; it reports that Patient XXX has arrived procedure room) — which is really a very useful innovation, and a comfort for Those Who Wait.

Because they had told me that Steve would be “upstairs” for two to three hours, I repaired, as is my habit, to a Sekret Corner in the back room, where a tall table with three tall chairs sat in a window looking out over an interior hallway.  There were four brass stars done in different styles hanging in the window, which I did not take a picture of.

There, I had one of the two oatmeal bars from the supplies in my go-bag, and a cup of coffee provided by the unit for my belated breakfast, and settled down to read.  I didn’t have a view of the Arriving/Departing board, but figured, as my train was at the least two hours away, I would remove from my nice, isolated table at the 1.5 hour mark, and set up in a chair with a view of the screen, where the rest of Those Waiting were congregated.

Of course, Steve was done early, and the nurse couldn’t find me.  She went back and reported this to Steve, still groggy from having his battery changed, and he said, “She’s in the window.”*  The nurse was pretty sure that no, I wasn’t, but she gamely came back to the waiting room, and yep, there I was, just getting packed up for my move to civilization.

The report back at the recovery room was that Steve was going to be released “immediately” so, after more questions, and delays, and an egg salad sandwich brunch for Steve — about 12:30 we were on our way back to the hotel.

Repeated requests for clarification from various persons along the health chain had finally achieved a definitive answer:  No, Steve did not have to stay within one hour of the hospital Thursday night.  So, once at the hotel, I left him in the lobby next to the fireplace, and ran upstairs to clear the room.

We were on the road around 1:15, stopped at Burger King for fast food to take home for lunch.  The cats were puzzled to see us, but willing to nap, and that’s what five of us did most of the afternoon while the sixth read a romance novel and kept watch.

Our biggest challenge at the moment is to keep the coon cats from sleeping on Steve’s chest, which they naturally want to do.  They can sleep across his lap, and his ankles, and against his back, but not anywhere near the incision.  Which means that coon cats were locked out of the bedroom last night.  I believe they spent this morning writing up the complaint to the Northeast Ward’s Committee Cat.

There are restrictions on various things — minor restrictions, in comparison to other restrictions that have been imposed; and orders to rest.  In a couple minutes, I’ll be going out to run a few errands, leaving Steve in the capable paws of the cats.  Then, I’ve got a lot of paperwork to catch up, and phone calls to make — though, seriously, phone calls may just wait til Monday, Because.

The weekend looks to be quiet-ish around the Cat Farm.  I hope to get some more work done on the titleless story, and to start migrating files from Victor F to Moose.

Hope everybody has an enjoyable weekend.

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*This is not quite as magical as it seemed to the nurse.  After Steve had been checked in, and before he had been called to the back, we sat together at the table in the window.