I guess that’s really a no-brainer. As much as I love a good spin cycle, starting off on the journey of discovery with a group of characters has to be one of the greatest thrills in life. Sure, there will be rough spots along the way as the story unfolds, but that’s just part of the process.

Right now I’m playing with that all important opening scene, trying to set the right tone in order to draw the reader into the story. I can see it all so clearly—the hero setting off on his journey, one that will bring him pain and hopefully joy. For now, the heroine remains blissfully unaware that change is coming her way that will turn her world upside down.

I’m also considering which secondary characters will be necessary for the story. I tend to write large ensemble casts, and I often bring back characters from earlier books in the series. Even so, each book has its own requirements. This one may have some feisty, little old ladies—just what a big, tough Paladin needs to keep him on his toes, right? But a few familiar faces will be crucial to the story development.

I love getting to know my characters through the unfolding of their story. I always know some things about them going in—like this hero drinks tea, not coffee—but I don’t really KNOW them until I’m well into the book. Sometimes that means taking a few unexpected left turns while writing the book. Luckily, I like surprises.

So, I’m off to start another load in my shiny, new washer. But while I’m adding detergent and pushing all those cool buttons, my mind will be elsewhere—following my hero and seeing where the adventure takes us both.

Coffee? Check. Comfy chair? Check. Idea firmly in mind? Check. Settle in, dear Reader.

Here’s what I want to say in a nutshell: It is perfectly okay to write dreck.

(more…)

The trouble with each Friday post isn’t finding something to write about, it’s more choosing among the plethora of things to say about writing.

This week, for example, there’s three things I’m thinking about, each of which deserves a big long post of its own. However, I’m in an abundant mood (and all my brain cycles are taken up with finishing the rough draft of the YA, which is two scenes away from being a Whole Corpse Ready For Surgery) so I’ll just touch on each of them. Besides, everyone’s at RT this weekend anyway, so bite-size pieces are probably better.

(more…)

The effect of DJ blogging has been twofold. Fans of the series are enjoying the extra glimpse into the lives of their favorite Paladins during the long wait between books. But almost more importantly, it’s been an excercise in character development for me. I’ve had to learn to think of my characters beyond the pages of the books, reminding myself that their lives go on, they grow, they have experiences. Time passes between the inciting incidents that generate the books in the series, and my characters need to reflect those ongoing lives.

DJ has even interviewed characters from other peoples books–a demon, a vamp, and the ghost from a haunted bordello. Again, those interviews were great fun to do. But entertainment value aside, as my friends and I wrote those interviews, we all saw our characters through new eyes and gained new perspective.

The icing on the cake for me came this last week when the nice ladies over at Simply Romance Reviews invited DJ to guest blog. He and three of my other guys showed up bright and early last Friday and carried on very entertaining conversations with each other and the people who left comments for them. It was fun watching the boys hassle each other, again revealing new sides to their characters.

Am I recommending that everyone set up an official blog for their characters. No, I don’t think that’s necessary. However, putting on my reader hat here for a minute, I personally love the character interviews I’ve read done by such authors as Suzanne Brockmann, Sherrilyn Kenyon, and JR Ward. But whether or not you decide to publish such interviews to share with readers, I do think taking the time to write out conversations for continuing characters set in different environments can be a great learning tool.

You absolutely cannot hope to come up consistently with a readable product if you don’t write every day. You also can’t expect your discipline to tide you over if you’re not in the habit of doing it every day.The conventional wisdom is that it takes ninety days to make (or break) a habit, and habit is what your sitting-down-to-write must become.

Human beings are creatures of habit–I’d go so far as to say we specialize in it. It’s such a powerful tool that we must be careful of it, and learn to use it consciously–or, I firmly believe, it will use us. Habit can be a best friend (when you’re tired and you need some other motivation to sit down and bloody do the work) and worst enemy (when you’ve gotten into the surfing-for-just-a-few-minutes trap.)

I can’t leave the question of habit without talking about timesuck. Timesuck is a habit run amok, something that keeps you from what you should be doing. My big timesucks are CatLOLs, Smart Bitches, and my f-list. (There. I’ve admitted it.) Easy bite-sized chunks of stuff that add up to hours per day–if I’m not careful.

There is a very simple, easy way to help a good habit settle in and keep a bad one in check. You can even buy it at the grocery store.

It’s a kitchen timer. No, seriously.

I consider cheap, portable kitchen timers God’s little gift to writers (along with commas and italic type, but that’s another post.) Set it for a short amount of time and give your chosen timesuck your full attention. That way you won’t feel deprived when it rings and you have to go back to working. Set it for a slightly longer time and write. No day is so busy you can’t find ten minutes to write, and the timer relieves you of the responsibility of watching the clock. It also teaches you to sit down, cut out the sh!t, and produce.

But there’s that critical component called Doing It Every Day. Sadly, there are no “tips” or “tricks” for this one. It must be sheer bloody-minded stubbornness. You have to want to do it, and want it badly enough that you will sit down and bloody well write even when you’re tired, or not feeling well, or when you just don’t want to do it again. The prospect of getting a paycheck motivates people to show up for their day jobs. You don’t have that prospect in writing, really–or you have that prospect so infrequently as to be a laughable excuse for motivation. So the motivation to write has to come from somewhere else. I don’t care where you find it, but you’ve got to find it somewhere or the whole experiment is doomed.

And you must, absolutely must, do it every day. Like anything else, writing demands practice. It’s that practice that hones your craft. (Along with reading, but that’s a different blog post.) Doing it every other day or once a week will not wash. If you do it every day, several things happen:

* You give yourself the clearest possible signal that this work is not going to go away, and that you are committed to it.

* You bolster the habit of just sitting down and putting your hands to the effing keyboard.

* You give yourself the opportunity to practice hard enough and long enough to start producing readable product.

* You give your writing a priority to match other priorities in your life.

This last one is where my sticking-point is. Too many folks who call themselves writers allow other parts of their life to put writing on the back burner, and that cannot happen. They say they need quiet to work, and as soon as they get that quiet place they’ll Produce A Masterpiece.

Bullsh!t. If you can’t work with distractions going on around you, you’re never going to make it as a writer. I work with two home-schooled kids under twelve underfoot all day, the doorbell ringing, phone calls, and a kid to drive to college three times a week. Plus there’s errands, volunteering at the bookstore, cooking dinner, laundry, and a whole host of other things.

I figure I could work in one of those seventies-era movie newsrooms. You ever watch All The President’s Men? Remember the phones ringing, people yelling, distraction pouring through the air? Yeah. Like that. If you do not exercise your ability to focus through those distractions, you won’t make it. Your time to write will expand in proportion to the importance you attach to writing and the gods-honest priority you give it.

It really comes down to a simple question. Is writing important enough for you to make it a priority and spend the work and time to do it every day through the distractions? If it is, great, sit your butt down and do it. Set your timer. Chain yourself to your chair if that’s what it takes.

If it’s not, great. Find something else to do with your time. Gods bless you on your journey.

But please don’t call yourself a writer. This is hard work, and if you’re not going to do it…well, you don’t need that title.

‘Nuff said.

Well, it’s not really either. The answer lies somewhere in between. If you have no fire, no spark, your work–no matter how well put-together–will be soulless. And all the Great Ideas and burning “I could do that” talent in the world won’t save a book if you don’t polish your craft and strive to write clearly and well.

We have this perception of the creative that’s analogous to lightning strikes. The Talent, the Inspiration, strikes the Helpless Gin-Soaked Writer, and the book that results is the burn. It springs forth whole from the forehead of the Helpless Gin-Soaked Chosen One, who must endure Years of Battle against Naysayers and Fools to get his opus/masterwork/Great American Novel published and recognized as staggering genius.

The vice-versa runs thus: the crowd is fickle and will pick trash for no discernable reason, so you have to just figure out the Magic Formula to make them pick your trash and retire to your house in the Hollywood Hills, laughing all the way.

The first is the schtick Byron used to get babes and wannabes use to avoid work. The second gives us huge piles of technical-manual crap with no characterization, power, or grace.

The real story is something like this: you can have varying levels of talent at this writing thing. But what is necessary is the discipline to grow that talent–and everything else necessary to a writer. If you, say, practice your guitar playing every day for ten years, you may not turn into a Segovia (who had to work his ass off too, dammit) but you WILL turn into the best damn guitar-player on your street, possibly in your town, and quite possibly within a couple hundred miles.

If you practice your writing every day, refine your craft, sharpen your language and read omnivorously, you may not turn into a Chekhov or a Dickens. (Who had to work THEIR asses off, too, let it be said.) But chances are you will start turning out decent, readable product, which has a far better chance of being published than the Werke of My Soule That Do Not Neede Grammare For.

Hand in hand with that discipline must be enjoyment. Don’t do this unless you enjoy it, for Christ’s sake. A writer writes clearly and well, using grammar and language as best as s/he is able to, constantly refining their craft for the eventual reader, so the telepathy between author and reader works with a minimum of distortion.

A writer gets up every goddamn morning and goes back to the laptop or the typewriter or the notebook because s/he enjoys it. It gives her a huge secret thrill to tell a story. Because there is something cool to do, something cool to say.

What other people call “talent” I usually think of as “joy in the making of something.” Look at, say, Eric Clapton or BB King. They’re not just up on stage whaling away until they can go home. No sir. When they pick up that guitar they are having fun. Their eyes light up. Christ, look at Mick Jagger. He still loves what he’s doing, and it’s not just because of the groupies.

Yeah, I know someone will say rock’n'roll ain’t writing. But it’s close enough for me–and really, writing is such a solitary thing that I can’t tell you what any other author looks like in the heat of creation. I can tell you that I’m having a ball, though. I look forward to writing every blessed day.

Someone can be immensely talented at writing–and can fritter away that talent by refusing to hone their discipline. Someone can be incredibly disciplined, but feel no heart-in-mouth joy in what they make. Those are two endpoints on a continuum, and it’s near the middle where the writer must balance. You’ve got to cultivate every scrap of talent you possess with discipline; and you must leaven the discipline with the joy and wonder of this marvelous thing you are doing, creating worlds. Juggling lives. Making little marks on a page into a living, breathing story.

The proper question, I think, isn’t whether it’s skill or talent. The proper question is, how do I balance what talent I have with the skill I can acquire? It takes hard work. It takes discipline. And if you don’t love what you’re doing you might as well deliver pizzas or practice law or take up with the Peace Corps or something, anything other than this.

Because it can eat you alive if you don’t love it.

But that’s another blog post.

1. Write the best story possible at that point in their writing career.
2. Get published.
3. Stay published.

But I digress because I was talking about the relationship between writers and readers. Yesterday I had the privilege of speaking to a readers’ group in Tacoma, WA. This group of wonderful ladies have been meeting regularly for years to talk about books, to share new authors they’ve discovered, and to listen to local writers talk about their craft. What an amazing way to spend an afternoon—getting together with friends to share a common passion.

This was my second time to visit with them. A friend of mine, Marianne Stillings, was also a guest author yesterday and we had a great time talking to the group about what we were working on and answering questions about the writer’s life. We laughed a lot, had some great discussions about titles, covers, and story ideas.

I know that my books sell out there in the real world. After all, I see the numbers when I get my royalty statements, and I obsess over my rankings at online bookstores with the best of them. But there is nothing like meeting people in person who have read my stories and loved them. It is such an honor to talk to someone who loves the characters who live in my head almost as much as I do and can’t wait until the next Paladin or Talion gets his story told.

But not I’m not only a writer, but a dedicated reader, too. I also love talking to other readers about authors I love and whose characters haunt my mind. One woman and I had a brief, but intense, Zsadist-fest yesterday. Gosh, that felt good.

I came home energized and ready to delve back into my current WIP. After all, someone is out there, counting the days until they can hold the finished book in their hands and get lost in my world. Honestly, is there anything cooler than that in this business? And another example of how much a reader can affect an author, a fan of mine did some graphics of two of my characters and gave me permission to post them to share. The first one is of DJ, one my Paladins who has his own blog on my website. The other picture is of Lusahn, the heroine in the fourth Paladin book. If you click on the pictures, they should take you to a separate screen so you can see them full-sized. (And thanks, Delilah, for your wonderful present to me!)

I’ve been thinking about sensitivity lately. Not political correctness or emotional balance, but that quality of fine attention and observation a writer develops. (Or should develop.)

A writer needs to pay attention. We are the magpie-voyeurs of the art world–we spy on the inside of our characters’ heads, and we are always looking in daily life for the shiny little telling detail. One of the things I always told my writing students was, “Go to a public place–a casino, a mall–and listen and look. Settle yourself with a drink and watch people. Watch human nature. Watch how they walk, listen to how they really talk, what they say and what they don’t. This will make your writing better, guaranteed.”

The effects of this include being very, very interested in everything going on around one–and, I think, having a kind face. It’s the latter I want to talk about, since I don’t advocate being what my Nana always called “a nosy parker.” No, really I don’t. Even though I advocate looking and listening in public places, I really deplore meddlesome interference. But that’s off the point.

(more…)

So. Five things I’m thinking lately about the craft and art of writing.

* I just saw Into The Wild last night. There’s a particular point where the main character writes, Happiness is only real when shared. Writing is an exceedingly solitary and private art, meant paradoxically to communicate to an audience. Write for yourself, certainly–write what you love, write what your Muse compels. But you must also write for that reflection of the other, the eye that’s going to read your work. You have to write as clearly and well as possible, so the eye of the reader will have the least trouble understanding you. Stunt-writing and trick-writing are all very fine, but they must be readable.

* Always give yourself time for incidentals. The incidental piece (i.e., the novel you write for yourself in between the work you’re getting paid for) is important. It might not ever get sold and it might not be a particularly good piece of work, but you still need time to work on it. Always, always schedule in time to do so. It will remind you of why you’re doing this in the first place.

* Your art will bring you face-to-face with truths and not-so-much-truths about yourself. Writing is a time-honored way to process a number of experiences and themes. It will also show–like a mirror–the assumptions you hold about yourself, true or false. Be gentle with yourself, dear fellow writer. It can occasionally be a spur, but it should not be a whip to use on yourself. Please, please, use the spur with care, and use care with yourself. You should not let fear of the whip or the spur stop you from looking, seeing, and writing. They are, after all, yours–whip and spur both–and you can choose how to use them. Use them to be honest, but not rigid; firm, not abusive.

* Alternatively, if your writing unearths a Nasty Truth about yourself, look it in the face. Your art and your life is not served by prettifying what Jungians might call the shadow. You must only look steadily at what it is, no matter how gruesome. It is necessary to see clearly to perform a writer’s function–to communicate clearly. Burying the Shadow (or the Nasty Truth) only makes it bigger, deeper, and nastier, and it robs you of the energy to see it for what it is, and hence, illuminate it.

* You don’t have to like your characters to be compassionate toward them. Your compassion is what will show you their complexity. Compassion does not mean that you advocate anything they do. It means merely that you understand. Understanding and respecting the rattlesnake gives it less of a chance to bite you; understanding and respecting your characters gives them less of a chance to be two-dimensional or nasty toward their humble creator.

Any one of these subjects could be a huge honkin’ blog post, but I just don’t have the energy today. I’m off to create. I’ve got a love triangle, a few vampires, and a half-werewolf to mess with, as well as themes of Identity and Virginity. (Heh. I love this job.) Catch you on the flip side, m’dears.

But I have found that there is another component to my writing life that has been with me from the beginning and has only strengthened in importance over the years: a sense of being connected to the greater world of writing. There are so many people who have contributed to my career in such a wide variety of ways. Without them, this would be a lonely business indeed.

First of all, there are my personal friends who are also writers. They have shared my ups and downs with me, and I’d like to think I’ve been there for them when they’ve needed me. Sometimes it seems it is easier to find people who offer their sympathy when it’s needed than it is to find people to really celebrate the high points. On the whole I’ve been very lucky in that department. I have good friends who have been there for me, no matter what. They are there with a handy shoulder, a high five, or time away from their own writing when I’ve hit a brick wall and need help working out the details of my WIP or a new idea.

Then there are my friends who are not now and never will be writers. However, they are most patient when all I want to talk about is the story that’s burning up most of my energy and focus at the moment. They put up with trips to the office supply store to see if there are any new colors of Post-it notes or 2” notebooks—both necessary to my creative process. And even if they don’t get my fascination with the whole paranormal genre and liked it better when I wrote westerns, they’ve hung in there for me.

I love my various loops. Knowing that there are all these cyber friends at my fingertips who will not only offer their support , but their experience and expertise with their fellow writers. Need to know a good source of information on any topic? All you need to do is ask. Have questions about agents and editors? Again, someone will reach out a helping hand. How great is that?

And finally, the industry professionals who have take my best efforts and made them better. The booksellers who support my books. My agent who understands me and my goals. She works so hard to help me attain them. I’ve also been lucky with the editors I’ve worked with over the years. My current editor truly loves my Paladins and my Talions. Her editing has brought out the best in my writing and I’ve learned so much from her. Then there all those behind the scenes folks that are part of the publishing process who design my wonderful covers, copyedit my manuscripts, and market my books. What an amazing job they all do!

So when I sit at my computer and work, I’m never really alone. I couldn’t do it without all those folks. But I’m also very conscious that it’s a two-way street.

I celebrate with or console my friends (several of whom have had some really great news lately! Way to go, ladies!) as situation requires, knowing their needs as important as my own.

I share my non-writing friends other interests and try not to make them watch me stare in awe at all the new colors of file folders too often.

If a writer asks for advice or information, I reach out if I can help. I’ve been giving more workshops these past couple of years as a way to give back to the writing community at large.

And I remember that my writing is a business and treat it is as such. I make sure my manuscript is as clean as I can make it ; I turn things in on time; and I keep my agent and my editor in the loop, especially when life is interfering with my ability to work.

So here is my advice for the week: seek out those all too important connections in your own life and nurture them. You’ll be a better writer for making the effort.