Need ideas for retreat and refresh!

I’m not sure how to arrange some sacred writing space. By this I mean the type of space where I can recenter and recharge and dedicate myself to writing just in time for July’s Camp NaNo. I’ve been sitting in my living room at my laptop since March 9 (not non-stop, although it feels like it) drinking coffee and typing. Even with lots of coffee and classical music, my writing just feels like more online classes and work rather than creativity.

I really could use a spa vacation. Or a writers’ retreat. But this is the age of COVID, and I suspect time in the Grotto at The Elms is not safe, and Mozingo Lake has no cabins for retreat.

Looking for suggestions for how I can get a retreat under COVID restrictions!

Musing on the search for quality.

Sorry I’m late; I had to write a couple pages on my final paper for my disaster mental health class. So here I am:

I’m looking for another developmental editor to look at two of my novels (the two I think are most ready for prime time) to see if I can improve them some more to get an edge toward getting published.

I love dev editors, but I wonder if this is wasted effort. I read a tweet today that suggested that agents aren’t even taking fantasy at this time. But I don’t know if it’s wasted time and money, because I want my books to be the best they can even if I’m self-publishing.

I wish I knew whether the issue was the market or my writing (or both?)

What do I do now?

“I’m just not as compelled by your story as I would like.”

This pretty much summarizes the rejections I have gotten lately, and I wish I could interpret the message so I can improve my books. What does this mean? What would it take to be compelling?

I’m frustrated and don’t know what to do at this point. I don’t know whether it’s just their taste or the popularity of my current memes or my writing.

I don’t know where I can send my work for review because my work has already been through a developmental editor and beta readers. Is there a type of editor for “not compelling enough”?

I don’t mind criticism is there’s an idea of how to remedy. I have nothing to go on here.

Any ideas, readers?

A Hiatus from Fiction

I’m not going to be writing too much for the next few days — or at least I’m not going to be writing creatively the next few days. I have a big paper due Friday for my Serving Diverse Communities in Disaster paper. I’ll try to knock out three pages a day so I don’t get stuck doing everything at the last minute.

When I’m done with this paper, I’ll be done with the summer class. But then I’ll be working on improving online presence in my class this fall. But that can be paced as well, and I will have time to write.

Wish me luck on this paper!

A Values Crash

I didn’t write yesterday. I felt too swamped with work, even though the only thing I had going was a class presentation at 8 AM. Yes, 8 AM on a Saturday. I needed the rest of the day to recover.

So today I’m going to rest. And not think about Gaia’s Hands for a bit. I have never struggled so much with a book in my life. I am wondering if I should put it aside again and write something else. Like a short story or two. Or another novel.

I’m obviously avoiding Gaia’s Hands. I have been suggested to write this as a romance novel. I want this book to live up to its potential, yet I don’t see romance as a way to do that. And I feel bad that I don’t hold romance in a better light, because it’s largely written by women and I treasure women writers. In other words, I’m suffering from a values conflict.

But it IS a romance novel, with Jeanne and Josh’s relationship taking center stage. I have to get over my feelings about romance or write it romance-secondary/subplot to make it happen. If you have any advice, please let me know.

Coffee and Struggle

#nomakeup #nofilter #quarantinehair

This is me at the local coffeehouse I’ve been talking about. I haven’t been going very fast with my writing — this novel just doesn’t want to be written.

I think I’ve written 1500 words in the past two days and rearranged another 1500. Usually when I write, it’s 2000-3000 words a day, especially when I have this much free time.

Despite my outline and my general idea of how the story goes, I’m having trouble writing it. I’m having trouble feeling the story. This shouldn’t surprise me; I’ve been very discouraged lately. Too many rejections. Too many “this story isn’t really grabbing me”. I’ve changed the beginnings of the stories to help people get into them more, but I still fear more rejections.

So, despite that smile, I’m struggling right now. I’m looking for a breakthrough. I’m looking for a chance.

Interrogating Josh

I’m sitting at my favorite coffeeshop with its board games on the walls, its sepia walls and Postmodern Jukebox playing on the speaker. My spot is one of the two comfortable chairs halfway up the length of the shop. My computer is perched on the stand in front of me. I’m not, however, making any headway into my story.

I stop, frustrated, and take a sip of my coffee. I buckle back down to writing, or at least staring at my keyboard.

A voice, a light tenor, spoke close beside me. “May I sit down?”

I look up to see a slender man with black bangs threatening to fall into his eyes. I know this man; I smile and motion to the seat. “Josh, it’s good to see you.”

“I was in the neighborhood and — ” he shrugged. “I thought I’d come in and talk.” He sat on the other upholstered easy chair.

“You’re just the person I wanted to talk to,” I replied. Josh nodded as if he already knew that. Which, of course, he did, being a figment of my imagination.

Talking to one of my characters always felt eerie, like the veil had lifted between this world and the world I wrote about, which looked remarkably alike except for the presence of Powers. Josh, slight and young as he was, held some of that power, and I could feel it in the economy of his movements, in his direct gaze.

“So, Josh,” I began, a little nervous. “You’ve grown.”

“Not really,” he said wryly, indicating his slight build. “I’ve just gotten older.”

“That’s the point. You know what you want now. You’re not having the puppy crush you had a few years ago.” Josh’s crush on Jeanne Beaumont, the botany professor, was standard knowledge between the two of us.

“I still want Jeanne. Maybe I can get her to believe me now. But still, I’m …” Josh trailed off, and I finished off the sentence in my mind. Twenty years younger.

“But this is Jeanne,” I offered. “Jeanne’s not exactly — typical.”

“That’s good. Neither am I,” he smiled ruefully.

That’s an understatement, I thought. I imagined I could feel his ki, his energy bunched up in his solar plexus. True power was always quiet, needing not to introduce itself unless necessary.

“So, what now?” I asked him out of the companionable silence.

“I introduce myself. Worst that can happen is we end up being friends. Or I make a fool of myself.” He looked at his hands.

“But that’s not going to stop you, is it?”

“No. My gut tells me this is what I need to do.” His gut. His ki. The source of his quiet assuredness.

And this is how the story will start.

A Tiny Bit of Progress

I actually wrote a little on Gaia’s Hands (the rewrite) yesterday. Not much, because I had to cut and hide a few things for a later scene and make some decisions that took a bit of time, but I got some written.

I have a better idea of Josh these days. (I’ve always had a good idea about Jeanne.) He’s actually a pretty interesting person, given a few years and an instructor’s position at the university.

I’ve been having such a struggle with this particular book (possibly because it’s a rewrite, possibly since I’m using the Save the Cat template from scratch instead of retrofitting it, possibly because it’s a romance, and I just don’t see myself writing romance.

But Jeanne and Josh are a couple, a tightly bonded couple, so their origin story needs to be told. And I’m the one to tell it.

I’m going to get out for coffee today!

In the days of COVID-19, this is going to look a bit different than it used to. The cafe, hopefully, will let us sit 6 feet apart, and I will be wearing a mask when I’m not sipping coffee.

I’m hoping for some good inspiration this morning for Gaia’s Hands. I have come to the conclusion that I’ve plotted as much as I can, and so I have to start getting things on paper. Given that this is a huge rewrite, I do have an idea of where things go, but there are still portions that are underdeveloped that I have to write. Lots of portions.

I’m going to keep this short because I have to work on getting information for a presentation this morning. Wish me luck!

… I need to write it anyhow.

I think I’m finally to the point where I can write about Jeanne and Josh’s unusual romance. I can tell because I’m getting a crush on Josh. Don’t you get crushes on your characters?

Josh is not a typical romance hero — he’s slight, he’s young (25), he’s a mild-mannered instructor of English. He’s a pacifist, he has second Dan rank in aikido. He’s half-Chinese. He practices folk Shinto and believes in spirits.

Jeanne, to be sure, is not a typical romance heroine — she’s a professor of botany who climbs on her soapbox occasionally to rant against factory farms. She’s 45. She’s zaftig and can lift 50 pounds easily. She’s eminently practical.

I know they’re not the romance characters women want. But maybe they’re what we need. I wanted representation of the people we don’t see in romance novels — big women, slight men. Asian men. Brainy women. Some role reversal. Nerds in love. Unlikely heroes.

I know this will probably never sell, especially as it’s also fantasy. But I probably need to write it anyhow.