Category: Blog

I have one more section of Fifth of Five to read, but, having read two-thirds of what’s there to read, I can say with confidence that it is Not Awful, it’s merely Not Done.

So, working on that.

It snowed Friday night, and Saturday it rained.  The plowguy called early to say that, unless we needed to go out, he was going to defer plowing until the rain stopped, so that he could remove crusty snow, leaving a walkable surface on the drive (as opposed to remove the snow, and letting the rain create a driveway skating rink).  I retired to my office to work, and went out this morning to remove crusty snow from the steps.

The only flaw in this plan was that the car was frozen shut, and no suasions of mine would budge any of the doors.  Steve mixed up an alcohol and warm water brew that did get past the ice seal, but it was a frustrating several minutes.  My last car had a remote starter.  May see if we can get an aftermarket remote installed in this car.

Going forward, the weatherbeans are calling for a snowstorm starting 2:00 am-ish, and continuing until early evening, leaving from 6-9 inches (locally up to 11 inches) of snow behind it.  The plowguy, when he came by this morning, wanted to know if we had to “get out” tomorrow.

No, I said; we’re working tomorrow.  He sighed and produced a sort-of grin.  Yeah, he said; me too.

So, that.

Partly as by-product of the on-going effort to write sell-copy for “Degrees of Separation,” I’ve been thinking about what “makes” a story.

Certainly, a story has a beginning, middle, and an end.

A story shows growth, or change.

A story illuminates action.

. . .all the stuff you learn in Writer School, sure.  But — what “makes” a story?  Certainly, I — and I am not alone in this — have received reader reviews, and reader letters, indicating that in Story A “nothing happens.”  What they mean by that varies widely, from “there were no gun fights in this story,” to “I had to read description and dialog,” to “we already KNEW how this was going to end, so writing down the middle was pointless,” to “I didn’t like this.”

So, what “makes” a story?

The answer, for me, is that the characters make the story — long story, short story, middling story.  People, what they do, why they do it, how they feel about it, are intensely interesting to me.  So, those are the kinds of stories that I tend to write.  This does not, note, preclude gun fights, or space battles, or car chases, but I maintain that a story without a car chase…can still be a story.

Well.

Peripherally on topic:  In case you missed it, “Block Party,” by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller is available, free to read! starting on the Baen.com front page (you need to scroll down past the new books section).  Share it with a friend.

Here’s a picture of the author, working at home, something I am now going to go do more of.

photo by Steve Miller

 

So, I did jinx my free time, a little.  Wednesday did not take the shape I had envisioned, and I devoted the remaining time to writing (attempting to write, more like) sell copy for “Degrees of Separation”

Thursday morning, having carried my second cup of tea to my office so I could start reading Fifth of Five, and stopping at my desk to check the mail queue — I changed my day-plans on the spot, because UPS was pleased to tell me that the 200 copies of Neogenesis ordered by Uncle Hugo, long delayed at the warehouse for reasons the warehouse chooses not to share, were abruptly arriving THIS AFTERNOON.

Which they did.

Our challenge at that point became getting the personalized/signed books to the Uncle by the middle of next week, so there would be sufficient time to pack them and put them in the mail before the January 2 pub-date.  Normally we would have taken the weekend to do the signing-and-personalizing, but! Monday is Christmas Day, and there is neither mail delivery nor FedEx pickups on Christmas Day.

That meant that all the books needed to be signed last night, and shipped out today, arriving in Minneapolis on Wednesday.

Which we did; and the books got onto Fast Eddie’s FedEx truck barely a half-hour ago, bundled up in racoon coats; some of them waving Minneapolis! pennants.

This morning, I went to town to run the Last Errands BC (Before Christmas), and this afternoon, after lunch, I am, byerlady, reading this damn’ manuscript and getting on with doing Work.

In other news, with the outdoor thermometer reporting a brisk 14F-Feels Like-12F (aka -10C-feels-like-minus 11C) it is snowing in Beautiful Central Maine.  It’s a rather determined looking little snow, and the weatherbeans are calling 1-3 inches this afternoon, with an additional 1-3 inches to fall overnight.

So, among the weird habits I’m trying to adopt so as to make the next fall into the Slough of Despond less. . .all-consuming, is keeping a Grateful Book, as one friend styles it, or a White Stones Book, as I think of it.  The idea is that every evening, you write down one thing that you were grateful for during the day.

Last evening’s entry was the arrival of those 200 books and the necessity to sign them, and turn them around fast.  Why? you ask, when it disrupted your whole schedule?

Well, because very few writers get to the point of having a shipment of books to sign for their fans, arriving to disrupt best-laid plans.  It’s rare, and it’s a blessing.

And, thank you.

 

So, it’s been a scrambled couple weeks, what with doctor appointments, call-back doctor appointments, visits to the emergency room, and assorted Real Life Whatnot, which would not have been nearly as annoying, except that they took up the time left over from the various health thingies, leaving Very Limited Amounts of Time to do, yanno, work.

The spaces of time we did have lent themselves well to small projects, which is why Degrees of Separation is ready to be published, absent possible cover quotes from a colleague or two — oh, and sell copy.  Because of the above time constraints, I went with a pre-made cover this time (plug here for SelfPubBookCovers.com), which looks very well, indeed.

Today, I have done various chores, including cleaning the bathroom, and looked at the Calendar That Rules Us All.  January is already starting to fill up with Good Things, like Book Day (January 2) and book signing (January 13) and Chaotic Neutral things like taking Sprite to the vet’s for her annual checkup, but also with doctor’s appointments, which. . .Honest, our doctors are perfectly nice people, but I could do with seeing them a deal less.

However — and I hesitate to say this, lest I jinx it — it looks like I don’t have One Blessed Thing on the calendar until Book Day, January 2.

So!  The Plan is, after the Generator Guy is done doing the Generator’s Annual Exam, I will read the 60,000-ish words that now exist in the file labeled Fifth of Five, and (1) determine if it really is as awful as I think it is (note: occasionally, the current project is exactly that awful, but usually not. This is only the 60,000 word slump — that unique point in the narrative where the Critic in Your Head can point out that Everything You’ve Written on the WIP so far is Crap and that there’s not enough room left to finish the story.  It’s a Special Place, indeed.), and (2) come up with a Plan for moving forward.

And so that’s what’s going on here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.  Business as usual, really

O, here’s the cover for Degrees. . .

And a snippet:

“No, no, having taken the decision to defend yourself–you did well. A man of peace, surprised at your lawful business, and, I make no doubt, exhausted from your labors this evening. Our friend, here, he had expected an easy strike, and now he will wake in the Watch House, with a headache, a fine to pay–and an account of himself to be made to his mistress that will, I expect, be very painful for him.”