Most times the little goodies the Girls in the Basement send you isn’t exactly marked on the calendar. So around the same time I decided to only write contemporary romance, I got an idea for a Women’s Fiction. It was one of those prettily wrapped nuggets of an idea. I could see the catalyst and the plot. This story would be funny, but dark.

That’s just it though, the story wasn’t a story, but a seed of an idea, a glimmer of plot. You can write a story with this much, but I put it away to see what would happen. Kind of like taking the seed and burying it in rich soil where it’ll get just enough nourishment. If it survived those harsh conditions–Me, not writing the idea and nugget down. Leaving it all up to my memory–then I’d come back to it.

Every month I’d see something, hear something and it’d make me think of that Women’s Fiction idea–watering it and giving it a little bit of sunlight–You know the Women’s Fiction idea that gets me excited every time I let myself think about it.

What I didn’t realize when I planted that seed was that stupid seed was really a vine. One that needed something to hold onto, but I was letting it go wild. And trust me it was getting everywhere. Writing the first draft of Lynne’s story, here goes a pesky tentacle of the vine from that Women’s Fiction. Editing Everything You Need, oh, there’s another one.

So, last week I gave in and created a wall where this stupid vine could grow. The inevitable next step was to get bits of dialogue. This is where my process of writing a book truly begins. I don’t know who my characters are until they talk to other characters. Now they can talk to me for months prior to this point and still I can ignore them on some level. They are only figments of my imagination. But when they start to grab other people and start talking…well, I love to eavesdrop.

So who did this nameless character talk to? The Grim Reaper. Yeah, from the initial seed I knew this story would have a hint of paranormal to it. But The Grim Reaper. Oy. And because of this, and the fact I like to make a secret joke when it comes to character names, I dubbed this character Desi as in Desdemona the character fated for Death in Othello. Oh, and there’s a hero who at this point hasn’t been named, but I can see him from my heroine’s POV. I don’t even think she really talks to him, but lust after him. But I’m leaning towards neighbor instead of co-worker…

And this is when those pesky vines start to climb up that wall, because I now have character. Or at least a sense of one. Most people get character first, then plot. This route, to me of course, is equivalent to putting out an audition for a play. You get a cast of people together who you get a good sense of and they somehow fit together. Then you go write the script for said play. *twitch, twitch* Instead I already have the script and I know I’m looking for someone who is squandering their life away on a misguided belief of eventually.

I’ll eventually go on that trip to Paris I’ve always dreamed of. I’ll eventually fall in love when the time is right. I will appreciate this person in my life eventually because they will always be there.

So from finding my plot first I knew I could weed out all the characters who are adventurous, but might need to settle down. Characters who don’t let their vacation hours stack up like stock chips to be cashed in at “some point”, but who still aren’t complete. The characters who have loved and loved deeply no matter the outcome. I know they are wrong for this role. Plus it’s NANO. I don’t have time to meander around for thousands of words exploring what would be the worst thing to happen to this character. I have the plot and catalyst I KNOW dying is the worst thing to happen to this character. And I know that truly living that no holds bar type of life is even more scary than death.

Did I mention this story has The Grim Reaper?

Anyway, I know have a general idea of what’s going to happen within the story. Even though CHARACTER comes last in this post, doesn’t mean I’m anywhere finished with finding out more about them. I’ll talk about the next step tomorrow. There might even be a list. Stay tuned.

Questions about any part of the process so far? How do you prepare for NaNo?

Quite frankly I wouldn’t want to narrow the question. As if being ambigious I could get the pulse of the industry through newbies, experienced authors and long-timers.

Example: I think it was on the Bookends blog, maybe a month ago, Faust posted a reader’s opinion. In essence, the reader was angered that a newbie, who didn’t even know the basics, was out there querying.

Now, I’m paraphrasing and probably not to the reader’s advantage, but her point was in the publishing industry some people want to play with the big dogs who don’t even know the rules yet. A part of me wanted to disagree. I still remember my newbie days. And, oh, thank the Lord, I’ve blocked out some of the stupid mistakes I’ve made. If only someone had stopped me.

Yet this realization only made me accept there are levels i.e. stages of being an author. Some learn faster than others. Some are much slower, but regardless there are levels. None of them, in my eyes, come with the published/unpublished stamp. Maybe with this aspect I’m still naive. Yet you can’t convince me someone who has been writing for 20 years, has friends who are open about their publishing experience aren’t more knowledgable than someone who has been writing for a year, sent out their novel the same day they finished it, and got published.

No one expects or welcomes they will crash and burn in this industry, but how many have looked at the odds, know them and can recite them to someone else? Who has paid their dues to this business and knows the ropes? Who is just starting out and only knows Harlequin publishes romance novels?

From all of them I want to know what do they expect or have experienced from being in the publishing industry? How is it different? How is it the same?

Hell, what do they think the publishing industry expects of them?

And, yes, I mean you. Hash it out in the comments.

But that’s not the point.

The point is that I finally know how to fix Getting Over Mr. Wrong. This is the novel I plan to tackle on the first. This 20k train wreck has been sitting on my computer since March. At the time I didn’t know how in the hell to fix what was wrong with this novel. A lot of it had to do with not wanting to write anymore, period. The other half is that I knew in my gut I was going down the wrong path with this story.

The blessing and the curse that comes with a straight contemporary is that it rides on conflict and conflict alone. Yes, I know all books need this one essential element, but I’m here to tell you it’s VERY obvious when you don’t have it in a straight contemporary. Romantic suspense–pfft–the dead body, or the serial killer can provide you with what can be missing. A romantic adventure can stall without it, but then you have the treasure, clock ticking to beat the bad guy to help guide you through.

But a contemporary lacking true conflict, glares like a big ass laser, repeatedly, directly, into your sensitive retina.

Sorry I got sidetracked…

I need to thank Debra Nixon, or whatever her name is who started the Goal, Motivation, Conflict craze. Me, sitting in my Litigation class–and hopefully my teacher doesn’t read my blog–I wrote out my characters’ name and their GMC. The hero’s was easy. And then I started on the heroine. All I had at the top of the page was the heroine’s name and her occupation. Nothing I thought to write down locked into what the hero’s GMC would be. This is the one thing I need in order to keep writing on a story–the hero and heroine have to be at odds. Where I was headed in this story the heroine was already half in love with the hero, and the hero was going to fix all the heroine’s problems. THE END. A boring ass story, far from what it started out to be.

So, I did something I don’t normally do–I started to think. It hurt at first, but then I got used to the strain. I kept thinking about how could what the heroine needed conflict with what the hero needed. I really looked like I was paying great attention to what the teacher was saying. A plus for me–unless of course he’s reading the blog now…

And then like the post title, a lightbulb slapped me upside the head. The heavens opened, beaming down rays of light and the chorus of people song that high note “aahhh”. I now know the path this story needed to go down. My heroine shall exact her revenge on the male species. It’s a simple, tried, true brillant idea. A woman scorned, but since it’s a romance I must make her fall in love. She’s going to hate me. And this is usually the sign a book will be going very well from here on out.

*le sigh* I’m going to totally kick this books ass now. Can’t wait for the first.

I’ve been thinking about what really makes an author’s career. Funny it was the theme I learned at RWA–Author Branding. I’m not talking platform or promotion. I’m talking about what I will be known for writing i.e. the type of stories I write.

“Romance with snark” is my tagline. I just liked the sound of it when I picked it, but it really does define my stories. You won’t get a picture perfect heroine from me. She won’t be willowly. She won’t be made of sugar. Okay, she’ll be a smartass or have a friend who will be. The hero will take as good as he gets. Yes, you’ll have emotion, but it won’t be sappy by no means. That’s what I write. That’s what I’m promising my readers. That’s my brand.

What does all this mean?

Think of books like people. You meet a person. You get that first impression and that impression is going to make them love or hate you *or reserve judgment*. The next time you meet them they give you the same impression. Now lets say that third meeting they act completely different. You start to wonder if this person was on meds. You are going to be wary of the next meeting. Worse case scenario–you meet this person a fourth time and it’s nothing like the first three meetings. You are going to veer way left every time you see this person coming. They’re not stable.

Now how can this make or break your career?

Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s the same with your books. Your career will be built on your previous books. It’s why when author changes genre or even their sub-genre they change their name. One example of this is Samantha Graves *hi, Sam*. Under this name she writes romantic suspense. Under her C.J. Barry name she writes futuristics/SF romance.

When you change what you write you might as well write under a different name. You will be changing your fanbase with each book. Some people will stay with you and others will veer way left when they see your book coming.

Okay for those in the back who are shaking their head, unbelieving, let me give you some names:

Nora Roberts
Carly Phillips
Mary Higgins Clark
Jennifer Crusie
Meg Cabot

Think of all the books they have and then think of why you pick these authors. Or, have you ever found yourself saying, “I’m in a {insert whatever author’s name here} mood.”

That’s brand baby.

Have you thought about yours?

Are you completely against this idea?

Hash it out in the comments.

But the older I get, more people I talk to, it’s not so common place to go after your dreams. I have a few theories as to why I’m different, but I know people who have matured fast and still they don’t do the one thing that puts a fire in their soul.

So my question is why don’t most people go for their dreams?

I can understand if your dream is to own your own business. If you don’t have the money to do it then it kind of makes your dream hard to achieve. But then again my mother taught me when there is a will, there is a way.

If you haven’t noticed I like to ponder. And this morning I was thinking about my comfort zones when it comes to writing. People have been tempting me to write erotic and I’m hesitant. First, I’m not even sure I could pull it off and make it believeable. Two, it’s the language that really holds me back. Third, I start to think about how big my dream was to write, so why can’t I swing wide and shoot high when it comes to my writing? I love Fantasy, but I don’t write it. I want to write more complex stories, but I don’t write them. I’m starting to feel like I’ve reached the point in my craft where I can start to push those boundaries, but something is stopping me.

Anyway, I’m just throwing thoughts out there in the ether. (This blog is called Brain Clutter for a reason.)

But you can comment on your theory of why people don’t go after their dreams.

And since this blog is so random…

Isn’t this the best picture? Courtesy of Raine Weaver, who found it elsewhere. I love it.

And then it dawned on me, that is how authors sell books. Not saying stand alone’s are dead in the water before they make it to the shelves just that books with a series to follow it or a sequel about the loveable secondary character can *and usually does* create a frenzy.

I’m not sure if it’s the sense of community. Or that the author makes the world more appealing when another book is set in the same world.

Or I can just look at Debbie Macomber’s House Series. She’s on 8. The fact that each time one of these books comes out it hits the best seller list…well, it just makes me wonder.

Why in the hell aren’t I writing a series and/or sequel?

That is all.

And what do you think as a reader or writer about series and/or sequels?

1. Still buzzing from release date, but now the idea of promoting is starting to sink in. When is it too early? When is it just last minute? What am I going to do this time around now that I’m not a newbie?

A. Expect an e-mail from me if you own a blog. Yes, I will call up the friendship card on you. Please don’t be annoyed with me. I’m trying to do what they call networking?

B. I’ll run a contest. Giving away How Much You Want to Bet? But I’ll make it harder this time around. And if you ask real nice *which just means mention in a round about way* I’ll post the prizes you would have won if I wasn’t a selfish shrew.

C. I’ll start making plans now, but won’t do anything until my actual book is released so there is a buy link. Makes sense. Why tease you with a book you can’t buy yet?

2. I’m writing a big scene today. I have high hopes, but I know I’m going to miss the mark. It’ll just be loosely disguised barbs thrown back and forth. My goal is to just make everyone have indigestion at the Thanksgiving dinner after these two characters are done with each other.

3. After I’m done with that scene, I get to write a sex scene. I have to figure out the goal so it doesn’t turn into Tab A into Tab B.

4. I’m going to have to revise the hell out of this ms. *le sigh* It’s bad when even I don’t believe these characters should be together. I have a feeling both Jorja and Eric will need a personality upgrade, but I’m just getting the bones down…

5. Still having some writing foreplay with the story I will write after this. If the words keep coming like they are I’ll be done in October. I promised to have the first three chapters, a synopsis and a blurb by mid-September.

6. Yes, I’m insane. It takes me at least 6 months to write a synopsis. Why, oh, why must I always put my foot in my mouth?

7. No, I’m not thinking about my submission at all.

8. Yes, I have a bridge I can sell you, too.

9. Just some subliminal messaging: Go buy my book.

Hey, I mentioned promotion, you should have seen that one coming. Maybe next time I’ll actually blog about something with substance.

Erica Orloff blog is amazing one. She’s post every day and it’s always something that leaves me with food for thought. Today, it made me think about how grateful I am to be writing again.

I don’t know about you, but it’s a very scary thing to have the stories in your head disappear. In September it’ll be four years since I started writing. A lot has happened since then, but this year has been different. And I have to say I just had an overload. All of sudden I was published. Then I had two books coming out. I still had edits. I also had to promote. *Let’s not forget I’m a mother who goes to school and work* Juggling, juggling, juggling. Then my cousin’s six week old baby died. Her baby’s funeral was the same day my book released. None of it seemed to matter. What was the point of writing happy books when things like this happens?

I can now say honestly, without shame, that I lost my love for writing. It didn’t have a purpose for me anymore. I didn’t enjoy it. Writing became a chore right up there with washing dishes. I avoid washing dishes. I buy plastic forks and spoons and paperplates just so I don’t have to wash dishes. I treated writing the same way and because of that the stories in my head faded. The drive to hunt them down and write them went away. To me that’s what makes the real difference in who finishes a novel and who doesn’t. It’s not that you have a better hold on your story’s plot. Or that you have a character that won’t shut up. It’s the drive, the passion to get it all down. It’s the same drive and passion that makes you keep submitting despite the no’s. The same one that makes you learn your craft and hone it. The same one that makes you revise until your novel sparkles.

So, what made me get that spunk back?

I started to miss the hell out of my happy place. Writing is my happy place. Yeah, I have others, but there is something about creating something outside yourself and seeing it all come together. You sit up taller. You speak with authority. You probably even have a damn sparkle in your eyes. Really, I was tired seeing nothing but the dark side of life. I needed to find the light again.

Plus, not to sound vain, I started to get feedback on my book. It made people laugh. It made them cry. It made someone’s crappy day a little bit better. But let’s cirlce back to “I made someone laugh” for a moment. I don’t know about you, but the sound of laughter is the most beautiful thing for me. It’s such a damn happy sound. I don’t know about you, but the sound of someone crying is the most heartbreaking thing to listen to. Yes, it may be what they need, but your eyes start to prickle and you know if you don’t leave the room soon you’ll be sobbing with them.

And then I had my near death experience. All those somber faces surrounded me. The ones with actual fear in them scared me more. Then I realized if I’m going to die today I’m going to do it laughing. Hand to God I started a one woman comedy show in that hospital. It could have been the morphine, but I felt better.

And the moral of the story is?

Laughter, that right there is how I found my purpose to write again. If only for one moment I can make someone laugh then I’ve done my job as a writer. I can’t do that if I’m not writing. I may not be saving the world one laugh at a time, but dammit it’s enough to get my ass in a chair every day.

What gives you purpose?

So what have I been thinking about?

Well, besides wanting to delete See Megan Run from my computer…

It could have been this time last year I started to consider e-pubs. Not that it was so hard to break into Big NY houses. Just that you only have so many options when you don’t have an agent and when my mss were barely breaking 30k. That was a very good career choice for me. Either let my mss sit and rot on my computer or see if my work is saleable in the right market.

See that’s the key. Breaking into e-pubs isn’t any easier. Trust me you will get rejected if you story is crap. Or even if the story isn’t crap, but you didn’t present the best work possible. It worked for me going this route. Heck, I still may go this route if I write the kind of story perfect for this market. For instance the short story I’m working on that involves a witch.

Anyway….

Right now for me I’m hoping to break into another market. Single Titles and Women’s Fiction. Bigger romances. I’m not sure if E-pubs are the way to go. And hey, I’m materialistic enough to want an advance. So sue me.

What I want to know is what road did you choose? Or what road are you choosing to go?

Every other Friday in my world of work I see a woman go home. This is a BIG deal where I work. This means she’s served her time here on The Rock. She got through all her classes, she sat through hours on end of hearing someone tell her she can change her life, has to hear, has to understand she can’t go back to alcohol or drugs, and finally when the six months are up she can go home.

Some women don’t pause on their way out the gate, others don’t bother to look back, some are racked with sobs, because for once in their lives they had a family, dysfunctional, but still theirs. I can see them pass by my office window and know what that feels like. I know what it means to not be the same person you were a day, a week before. Something you hoped would happen, happens. You trade in your old worries for new ones. It’s scary as hell to be at that fork in the road without a map and a compass that only points south, most times it’s worth just putting one foot in front of the other.

Have a great weekend.