Inspiration and Community

 

Although I'm an introvert, I gain a lot of inspiration from the people around me--writer friends and groups, my family, and, of course, my book friends (they count, don't they?). After a day of work, parenting and household chores, and writing, it's great to take a little time for myself and connect with someone(s) who will make me laugh or make me think or make me cry. All good things to fill up the creative well. 

Thanks to the FaRoFeb group

Let me begin today with a big thank you to all the FaRoFeb contributors for 2023. They gave us insights into being a writer and writing fantasy romance, thoughts on current topics, and tips and hacks we can use every day. I've learned a lot and gotten to know my fellow authors better. I'm so proud of our group and thrilled to see what FaRoFeb has in store for 2024!

Family matters

My extended family is big--I have 11 aunts and uncles (not including their spouses) and over 40 cousins, all of whom are amazing individuals and are creative in all kinds of ways! Many of my characters begin with one or more traits from a family member, as they are wonderful inspiration. As we have grown older, we see each other less often, but Facebook and family weddings (and funerals, sadly) give us opportunities to catch up. I have so many fabulous memories to remind me I'm loved and I belong. My family gives me the courage to express myself creatively and believe in myself.

Reading Women

Like all good writers, I am a confirmed bookworm. Like many of us, my childhood was filled with fairy tales, science fiction and fantasy, and world myths--a perfect training for writing fantasy romance. In addition, I have advanced degrees in English literature and teach at the postsecondary level. One of the great joys of my job is reading books and stories and calling it work.

I will read almost anything as long as it's written well and isn't misogynist or racist, etc. Now that I'm older, I've decided life is too short to waste my time and energy on hateful or toxic materials. Fill the well with good stuff, I say!

Today I read for fun and also to learn the craft and spark new ideas. I love learning about plot reveals and turns in crime fiction, creating action-packed scenes in suspense, and how to make a relationship compelling in contemporary romance. From fantasy and science fiction, I explore new worlds and societies, from historical novels I glean ideas about setting descriptions and family dynamics. Women's fiction helps me see the nuances of telling women's stories and seeing a variety of viewpoints. We can learn from everything!

Happy new year and wishing you lots of inspiration for 2024!

Writing Habits and Work-Life Balance

 

This week at the SFF Seven, we’re discussing work ethic and asking each other what we do to keep balanced and writing regularly?

Many of you already know I’m kind of a fiend for building a writing habit. That’s because, once I stopped resisting the idea and starting doing it – by writing every day at the same time every day – that habit carried me through all sorts of difficulties.

It still does.

For example, I’m on a plane as I type this, heading to WorldCon in Chicago. I was reading a novel (Lisa Klepas, Marrying Winterborne, highly recommend!) as the plane taxied and took off. Once we reached cruising altitude, I began to feel the prodding of habit. “Time to write!” it urges. So, I pulled out the laptop to write this blog post. Then I’ll turn to my draft of Shadow Wizard, which I need to get done.

Yes, I write every (weekday) morning. That’s how I can count on getting the book done.

Last week I visited family and there were many family goings on. There was some emotional stuff to deal with, aging parents and all that involves, and it threw me for the remainder of the week. I wasn’t productive. I was feeling stressed. I’d been knocked out of my routine by life, which is the way of life. It would be nice (in theory) if I lived in some hermitage or remote villa where all days flowed by as serene as my view of the Mediterranean Sea, but I don’t. I live in a beautiful place (no ocean) and my life is relatively even and peaceful, but I’m connected to people and life happens.

By the following Monday, I was able to slide back into my writing habit like a pair of comfortable yoga pants. Morning writing was waiting for me, restoring the necessary balance. It felt good. That’s the beauty of habit – it does all the hard work for you.

my favorite things...aren't things

 

It’s the holidays and Christmas is approaching…so I’m going to get sentimental on you all today. 

This week we’re picking our three favorites. I have a lot of favorites. Favorite champagne: Le Mesnil, favorite pie: peach, favorite book: wait—I can’t answer that because there’s too many! But this year when I think of my favorites, the only thing that comes to mind is what really matters most. And they’re not things. 

My favorites are my family. No matter which direction I’m going, or where I’m hiking off to, I know they’re always behind me. 

My favorites are my friends. The right ones know when I need a call or a friendly message. They know how to pick me up and they’re always down for a bourbon tasting evening. They’re worth more than their weight in gold.

My favorite is my pup, Ullr. Being loved unconditionally is a difficult thing to grasp, especially when your own sense of self worth and success are strained. So having a physical reminder, every day, of that kind of love in the form of a fluffy fur-ball is amazing. 

Those are my favorites. What are yours?

Ye olde holiday boozy chat

Happy happy, everybody! My family contains many Catholic people plus some Jewish, Baptist, pagan, and agnostic folk as well, so winter holidays are a mishmash of we-all-like-each-other-ness, which makes for a heckuva celebration. It does not require adult beverages, but they aren't discouraged either.

Sadly, it hasn't been cold enough here in Austin for my favorite winter cocktail -- hot cocoa, Bailey's, and mini marshmallows -- but we have made do despite. Last year we didn't cocktail but instead drank a ... well, rather a lot of this South American red wine with llamas on the label, but I couldn't find that stuff this year. (Sadness.) We tried this as an alternative:

...which turned out not to be a complete abomination. I mean, if you accept the fact that you're drinking berry juice that's just a touch bitter, it's really okay.

My preferred cocktailish drink is always whiskey sour made with Makers Mark (I'm a cheap date) or Deep Eddy Ruby Red Vodka with something fizzy like Topo Chico. When accomplished bartenders or trusted friends are in charge, I love me a good Old Fashioned.

But you know what the best holiday mix is? A cozy fire, a good board game, some people who respect each other and can behave like adults despite any differences they may have, and time set aside just for each other. Snuggled, not stirred, and served warm with a side of giggles.

Perfect.

Who Reads Me

Happy Friday the 13th! Practice safe superstitions out there, people!

I am developing a new appreciation for sunrises since we moved. Maybe because I'm no longer stuck out on the western edge of the continent where sunrises were hidden by Crown Hill and I had unimpeded water and skies for sunsets. There is chatter now about moving us back to a water-based existence. I'll be interested in seeing what I get in the way of sky watching while on the water here.

This was Thursday morning. Not bad. Unless the red sky at morning sailor take warning screed is true. If it is, I'm screwed.

We're talking about family reading our books. The answer is yes. AFTER they are books. I know I sound like a broken record (also hush up with your 'what's a record' nonsense and then get off my lawn.) I'm super protective of work until it is fully formed. I hate critiques of something that's still gestating.

Let me be perfectly honest here - I have Second Guessing EVERY Damn Thing I Do disease. I don't watch the news because I don't need any help being depressed, I can do that myself, thanks. Very much like that, I can paralyze my writing process with 'Am I Doing This Right' questions without having external voices reinforcing those doubts. So I've learned to say no to all but a very few people (other authors) who I can trust to give me the straight scoop on how a piece of work is or isn't progressing.

And look. We all know that geeks are great, right? I mean I married one and he's a good guy. But he is, at heart, a programmer. This means that B must follow A and you do NOT take detours from B straight down the rabbit hole to Q. Thus, while I love him, I do not discuss my work with him until it's been turned over to the editor. And for all the gods, I do NOT TALK IDEAS WITH HIM. Never ever ever. I *think* it's Margie Lawson who tells the story about talking to her husband about story ideas and the angrier he gets, the more on track she knows she is. This is my life. You cannot talk to COBAL programmer about illogical and fluid story concepts. It's been hard experience for both us, because you know he'd ask what I was working on just to - you know - care about what I do.

We had to give it up. I think he's secretly pleased. But yes. He reads the books when they're published. Funny thing. He doesn't have a problem with them, then. My parents and my in-laws read the books. A bunch of my extended family read the first one, but I do not know whether any of them have read any further. I think they were mainly interested in making sure I actually had gone off and gotten published.

The only comment came from my mother. "Your main character sure does swear a lot."

I haven't had the heart to mention that I do, too. Leave the woman her illusions, right? ;)

Dear Mom, Please don't read my books...yet.

Mom (upon learning that I’ve co-written a story that an actual publisher wants to actually publish): Can I read it?

Me: Er, I don’t think you’d like it.

Mom: It’s a romance. I like romances.

Me (silently: Oh, you sweet summer child) and aloud:  Actually, it’s more of a… scene. With three people. Who chat a bit in the parlor and then head upstairs to, uh, not chat. For twelve thousand words. Of nakedly not chatting.

Mom: Oh. Maybe the next one, then.

Hubs: Okay, so I’ve finished reading [the manuscript that eventually became Perfect Gravity – my second full-length novel].

Me: Uh oh, the ending fizzled, dinnit? It needs more guns blazing and cat hissing.

Hubs: No, that’s not what I was going to say at all.

Me: Wait, you and your fancy film degree and years making computer games weren’t going to give me constructive criticism that will definitely make me a better writer after I get over the initial navel-gazingly depressing realization that I’m not quite there yet?

Hubs: No. This one is good. Consider me a fan.

Me, having just received the biggest compliment of my life, sobs and kisses the shit out of that man.

My eldest child grabs a copy of my first-ever published-in-paper book.

Her: This is so cool, Mom. Can I read it?

Me (after slight hesitation for she is yet a Jedi youngling): Er, sure. Just, if you get to something confusing or weird, let’s talk about it, okay?

She cracks open the book and digs in. A couple of minutes later, she closes the book and sets it back in the box.

Her: I’m not allowed to read this book.

Me: Nonsense, I just told you—

Her (interrupting): Three. You have three swears on the first page, and two are the F-bomb. Mom, I’m not allowing myself to read it. And you need to watch your language.

So, to date three of the most important people in my universe have attempted to read my books. One actually made it all the way through. Hey, one of three ain’t… okay it’s a crappy percentage.

But someday I’ll write something without swears or sex.

(Stop laughing, you. I totally will.)

Cursed By Blood (to Read My Books)

Does my family read my books?

~slaps knee~

Dear readers, my father has been checking my homework since I started having homework. The greatest invention of my childhood was erasable ink. Who cared that erasing turned the entire page Smurf blue? I didn't have to re-write the whole tham ding just to correct a half dozen mistakes. Fast forward a few decades and yes, yes my father is still checking my homework. Only now he's the proofreader armed with Track Changes.

And if you think I can have one parent proofread and not the other, then well, pfft, tschtt, pfft. My mother is the avid fantasy reader. There is no bottom lip quiver quite like southern Mama's lip quiver when I send the digital version instead of the print version because--don't you know--it is so much easier for her to read and comment in print. That technology stuff is just too mean to her.

My sister was my CP for my romance books 'cause, as my very wise father once said, "There are some things daddies don't want to know." Since then, I've stopped writing romance, and my sister had my beloved niblings. Her schedule went from hectic to when-do-you-have-time-to-pee, so I don't ask for time she doesn't have to give. She's miffed that she's been removed from my process. It's ire I'll endure for the sake of her relative sanity. Once her children age out of the "Mommy-Mommy-Mommy" years into the "Ugh-Mom" stage, then I won't feel guilty about asking for her time. Until then, No Books For Her. Though, she not only buys them after they go on sale, she gives them as gifts, passes out promo cards, and is edging out my mom as my lead marketer. Her husband is also in on the Sell All The Books program.

Yes, dear reader, yes, it is awesome to be so well loved and supported by family. I am beyond blessed and incredibly grateful.

Does Your Family Read Your Books?

We have high winds today and Jackson is feeling the fever - here he is trying to climb the portal post. Spoiler alert: that's as high as he got.

Our topic this week is whether our spouses or close family read our books. I always find it interesting how widely this answer varies among writers - from those who cowrite with spouses, or rely upon them or close family to critique, to those whose families don't even know they write.

Seriously - I have a friend who was a journalist and wrote - and shopped - his first novel in secret, even from his wife and kids, because he didn't want them to know about it if he failed. Which... I can understand. It's an excruciating phase, the one where writers labor for years to hone their craft, often over multiple novels or hundreds of stories, with nothing to demonstrate to the greater world for the effort. A lot of writers give up in this phase, or self-publish in order to have "something" to show for all that work. There are few questions more invidious than "Oh, you're *still* writing that book?"

At the other end are the couples where both are writers and exchange work, or who collaborate together. I think collaborating with a spouse would be trying, although the team writing as Ilona Andrews does it brilliantly. I'm still amused by Ilona's explanation that they don't really fight over the storylines, but one of them might "angrily load the dishwasher."

As for me, my husband David does not read what I write, pretty much ever. Sometimes he hears pieces of stories at readings. But, overall, he doesn't read fiction. I'm okay with this. I think our close families can exert strong influence on us, and not always in the way that encourages to grow.

I taught Tai Chi for a lot of years, including an introductory class in continuing education, and it was always a bad sign when spouses took the class together. Or parent and child. Or sisters. (I don't recall ever having brothers take a class together.) Inevitably, they would start telling the other how to do it. Usually it was framed as being "helpful," but it rarely was. It got so that in partner exercises we'd make it a rule that they couldn't work with someone they knew. This was entirely to pry apart the people who knew each other far too well - and got in each other's way.

So, I don't mind that David doesn't read my work. It gives me a certain freedom to have that headspace to myself. My mom reads my books, but only after they're published. Some other members of my family read them, but largely most of them don't. I'm okay with that, too. Everyone should read what they want to!

Family Stories

Because last week was the anniversary of my grandmother's death and because I am in nearing the end of a draft on a story set in New Orleans, I've got family on the brain. In part, because my mother's family is from the south. And in part because both in the story I'm finishing and in my life, family plays a complicated role.

This photo at right is of my grandfather Watson. He's the man on the right, in the suit and tie. This is in Arkansas, taken just after a church meeting. I have no notion of the year. Of all my family ties, my relationship with him was one of the least complicated. He and my grandmother both believed that my sister and I could do no wrong. We had an advantage, having both been born in Alaska, so far away form either set of grandparents. I met my maternal grandparents for the first time with I was five. I think they thought they had five years of spoiling to make up for. They were lovely people who accepted me without question and without fail, simply because I was their daughter's daughter.

But you know, they had six children. And those six children all had children. Some divorced, remarried and had still more children. By the time I'd come along, some of those children had married and started having children. That's a lot of people to have in the house at Thanksgiving. It's also a lot of people with a lot of different opinions, some diametrically opposed to my own. There are interdependencies and drama and accusations of terrible things. Dynamics of love and jealousy, rivalry and kinship are etched deep into the people who make up the family. We are mostly Scots/Irish and in the south, the clan identity never quite gave way. Your blood is your tribe for good or for ill. In reality, it's both. We have a body of stories in this part of my family - stories like Four Brothers Come to America and Marry Four Brothers. It was a headline in a local paper when a many times great grandfather arrived from Scotland. He and his brothers married four sisters whose last name was Brothers. When the Civil War came around, the entire line died out save for one lone boy who'd been too young to enlist. These make up a huge portion of our identity on Mom's side of the family. They're intertwined with the complicated side - like the occasional display of bigotry. I don't get to embrace one and ignore the other. They are part and messy parcel of the family.

And I'm not here to get up on a soapbox about anything. What I want is to have this complex, sometimes maddening, but ultimately loving and fertile ground woven into the story I'm finishing because it so defines the Southern experience and I suspect a big portion of the Civil War - in that it sundered families, both from an ideological stand point  and from the stand point that so many men died. The heroine of the story is already an orphan. She has no idea who she is. But she knows family. Crazy, maddening, loving and protective family. She'll do anything to protect them. Anything.