Miss Snark, I hardly knew ye.

Hey all. I've been hellishly busy and it doesn't seem like it'll get better anytime soon. Expect me to update this only under duress or fits of inspiration until further notice. Something to do with being sick and working and writing all at once.

My current distraction at work is this blog. It stopped updating fall of 07, but it's still worth reading if you're a writer (like myself) or interested in the business end of writing/agenting/publishing. It's one anonymous agents take on the business from her end. I find it not only endlessly entertaining, but incredibly informative. When I start my agent hunt, I'll feel much more prepared for having read it.

Novel is progressing. Been laid low by the flu and a certain show that a certain someone has gotten me hopelessly hooked on. I'm not in any hurry, though. I'm content to take a little more time with this one if I have to. It's coming out really well, considering how early it is. I suppose that means I've learned something the last three times I've done this. :p

Expect some sort of description of the project (plus excerpt) as soon as I cross the 10,000 word line. Which should be late this week(end) at the rate I'm going.

So, what now...

Now that the editing of Marton Syan is done, I'm left in something of a state of flux. I'm waiting for people to get back to me on critiques of the MS manuscript, something that I'm absolutely dying to see. I'm also ready to move on. Very much so.

I've so far written three novels. The first one might as well not count, though I'll dust it off one day. The other two are good, and they get better one after the other, but they're very serious and full of nuance and characters dealing with life and whatnot.

All in all, what could be considered 'boring literary stuff'.

I don't think it is. In fact, I LOVE the stuff that most people call 'boring literary stuff'. But I can't make a living writing that. Not unless I also write it with all the aplomb and finesse of someone who can make prose sing. Someone both brilliant and witty.

Someone like Tom Robbins.

My next novel, which I'm still not 100% ready to spill the beans on, is my attempt at a Tom Robbins-like novel, through the skein of me being me and having to do things my own way. It's not anything like a Robbins novel, but if I could write with 1/10th of the skill he puts into every sentence, I'd consider myself a victor.

Of course, I write 5x faster than he does (seriously, the man claims he aims for two pages a day). And he's been doing it forever. And he's a genius. But I want to write like that. So it's the high water mark of the moment.

Anyway, this next book is a bit of a stretch for me. It's light-hearted (sorta) and funny (supposedly). It's tongue-in-cheek and seat of the pants. It's full of piss and vinegar in the best way.

It's also absolutely terrifying to think about.

I'm feeling very lost with this one. Drama is easy, comedy is hard. But I'm going to go for it. I consider this an expansion project. Even if it bombs, it'll be a learning experience. I'm just not sure how far down the rabbit hole I'm going to go with it, or how long it'll take me. If it ends up taking longer than the expected two months, I'd be okay with that, so long as the end result is worth it.

I'll post up a plot synopsis as soon as I have ... a plot. I have a half-cooked idea and an opening chapter that I adore, but right now I'm sitting on chapter two wondering how my opening sentence took a brilliant book and drove it striaght into the ground. Such is the life.

This one's going to be a fight.

If I win, expect something amazing.

If I lose, expect me complaining about the book that never was.

I will spill the title, though. The next book is going to be called Tango Diagonal.

Off the Cuff

At work. I should keep my mouth shut.

me:Gary Gygax is dead. Who gets the exp?

Anthony: OMG
that is by far the single most...
i dont have a word for it
what happens when your jaw drops in shock but you have the overwhelming urge to roflmao at the same time, so you just end up breaking even?

me: Haha. I don't know, but I'm pleased.

Anthony: seriously, there needs to be a word
i've never been blasted into emotional neutrality so succinctly

me: Flabbergasted.

Anthony: that's probably it

me: We could make up a word.
Dumbfounded
Stupified.

Anthony: those aren't made up

me: No, those were real suggestions.

Anthony: quelligied

me: Quelligied?

Anthony: quell-ig-eed
quell-IG-eed
that's the new adjective

me: Okay.

Anthony: "Man, that joke quelligied his mom!"

me: That's what she said.

Anywho. I give you quelligied.

State of Blog (ver 1.2) Dry Spells and Priorities

I said that I would be doing periodic updates on the state of the blog, and I’m doing so in accordance with that. But first, a bit of an apology.

I’m bad about updating my blog regularly. That doesn’t mean that I’m abandoning it, or anything remotely like that. In fact, I plan to have this blog for a long, long time. Years upon years. It might eventually morph into a proper website, but it’ll still be here in some form or another.

Yet, lately I’ve been blogging less and less. Partially, I’ve been busier. Full-on editing mode took lots out of me, and I have other things I’ve been pursuing and other dalliances that have build up (friends convinced me to start watching TV shows, which is a bad bad idea when it comes to me being motivated).

Now the editing’s done and I’ll be moving on to another novel. I still don’t feel the desire to write any great articles on here. The problem is knowing what to say and how to say it. Lately I’ve felt the demands of ‘becoming better’ more keenly than before. Going through and looking at what I thought was decent work and seeing how much it lacked has driven me to improve my efforts on the novelling front. That said, I don’t really feel like spending time here, aside from the odd rant or jotting or whathaveyou.

I have a few things up and coming. The most important thing is the next novel, which I’ll start work on tonight. I will go ahead and set my word count expectation at 100000 words again, since that seems to be my standard. I’m actually guessing this one to come in at about 75,000. Just in terms of content being a lot more sparse than my usually densely narrated novels.

We’ll see. Once I’m comfortable the plan is working, I’ll throw up a plot description and title. It’s a great idea, I think. Maybe I’ll even put up an excerpt or two. This’ll be the first time I write a novel while blogging, so there are a lot of possibilities if I choose to explore them. I don’t know if I will or not. There are lot of things I could do with this blog. So many directions, and I’m only one person with a very limited amount of time and energy.

Word count goals for daily writing: 3000 words (settle for 2k), off Wednesday and maybe Friday

And it's done!

This morning I finished my second draft of Marton Syan. The final word count, a neat 15,000 words less than when I started, can be found on the right for a little while longer until I take the bar down for a new one.

The book is off to my initial readers now, where they'll look it over and tell me what I missed or did wrong. Later, in the summer, I'll gather their opinions and give it another go. For now, I'm willing to bask in life without Marton Syan hanging over my head for a little while.

I have other updates forthcoming, including the next book I'll be starting work on come today or tomorrow. I'm very excited about this one, even if I'm very unsure of how it's going to go. It's much different than my usual work.

Until then, celebration!

Good Reads

So I was given a link to a virtual bookshelf site to track and review all the books you've read. I personally think this is a great idea, mostly because I'm a big fan of knowing what I've read (my memory's terrible) and seeing a big fancy list.

I signed up, and I'll probably have a permalink up along the sidebar. If you want, feel free to play along and join up. I like seeing what other people are reading.

The Bull and the Cookie - A Fable

( To Kris, who asked and shall receive. )

Once, long ago, in a small village there lived a Bull and a Cookie. The Bull was a massive creature who prideful and tempermental. But he was quiet and dependable in his own way in that many of the farmers relied upon him. The Cookie was baked by the bakerwoman that morning, and was cheerful and perfect in every way.

That day the Cookie was out for a stroll, examining the world with its new sugar-coated eyes, when it spotted the Bull standing eating its lunch. The Cookie came up to him and offered a cheerful hello.

“Go away,” said the Bull. “I have too many things to do during the day to worry about the greeting of someone so unimportant.”

“I am important!” insisted the Cookie.

The Bull was unconvinced. “I pull plows and mate with cows. I graze and haul and allow myself to even be ridden from time to time. Without me, the crops would not be sowed. And if they were sowed, they could not be brought in from the harvest. And if they were, they could not turn the millstone to grind the grain into bread. People would starve and die. That is what it means to be important. You are not important.”

The Cookie threw back it’s doughy head and laughed. “You’re so mistaken. I’ll prove to you that I’m important. Come!” And the Cookie led the Bull to where a small orphan was sitting. He was all alone in the world, and wept with hunger and sadness. The Cookie bid the Bull to wait. “Watch this!”

And then the Cookie went over to the young orphan and offered itself to him. The orphan was initially hesitant but then suddenly grabbed the Cookie and gobbled him up. His tears dried and he even smiled in delight. There was such a look of peace on his face, and he whispered to nobody in particular “Thank you.”

The Bull was enraged by this. He did all the work with no thanks whatsoever, and this Cookie had in doing nothing but existing received more gratitude than the Bull had ever received. In a blind anger, the Bull charged the orphan where he sat and trampled him to death, Cookie and all. When he was done, he snorted. “I am indeed the most important. More important than the Cookie and the humans.”

The people in the village saw what had happened and surrounded the Bull. “Murderer!” they cried. “Monster!” The Bull could not fight them all off as the angry crowd swept over the Bull. They tied him down. They cursed and spat at him. And then finally, the Matron of the orphanage came and with a farmer’s guidance slit the throat of the Bull. “No Bull is worth the life of a child,” the crowd said as they dispersed, hauling the Bull to the butchers to be turned into meat.

Despite the Bull’s meat, soon it was time to plant the grains and there was no Bull to be had. They planted by hand, and it took every person and twice as long. Then come harvest time, it took every person and took three times as long, and some of the wheat had gone to rot in the time it took. And when they went to grind the grain, it took every strong man to turn the wheel, and only slowly was bread made while a bitter winter descended on the village.

Without the Bull, many people in the village died, and even those that remained went hungry. Nobody was left in the town who remembered the day that the Cookie had enraged the Bull. Instead, many spoke of the Bull who ruined a town and of the crowd who were too blind to see their need. Yet, when all was said and done, who could ever say which was more important: the Bull, or the Cookie?